“The portal closed, and Kaufman died, but a Lich was born.”

Chapter 81

Wil felt tired.

The last few months had passed in a blur of combat, exploration and training. The days were spent in the city, with Garman guiding him on how to survive. Which areas to avoid, how to separate and eliminate his enemies, when to fight and when to run.

The constant battles had hardened him, made him stronger than ever. His rusty swordsmanship skills had been honed to a fine edge, hammered by Garman’s relentless pace and cutting tongue. The man wasn’t afraid to let Wil know when he was a disappointment.

The highest praise from him was silence.

For Garman, Wil was an opportunity. Not only a ticket into the Brookmoor House Guard, but a way to foist all his responsibilities and duties onto his mentee. After Wil’s first month, Garman had named him his vice commander over the newly arriving auxiliaries.

Garman had Wil going to every meeting he didn’t want to attend and signing every document he hadn’t read. If Garman was expected somewhere, then Wil was there in his place if he could. It was great experience for the younger man, and he wanted to throttle Garman ever gods damned day for doing it.

During the day, Wil explored Aachen, usually under Garman’s careful watch. They cleared dozens of buildings along the outskirts, slowly making their way inwards over the months. Wil learned a lot under the experienced warrior, and he was grateful for the guidance.

He had even broken through to Rank 4. The physical and mental stress had worn away at the bottleneck, allowing him to reach the next level. His Mana Core, a small diamond like shape filled with silvery liquid mana, was now larger and brighter.

He could now cast 3 spells of the 2nd tier, along with 4 in the 1st tier before collapsing in sheer exhaustion.

Wil was especially appreciative for the coin they were bringing in. Every trip into the city, even if they couldn’t find any salvage or loot, the energy the orb collected was a gold mine.

In the three months he had been here, he had upgraded his sword and armor, paid off his debts, and filled his spell book with every tier 1 and 2 conjuration spells available.

As great as his swordsmanship and survival training was going, it was his magic that excelled during his time in Aachen.

Every day, he would drain his mana, casting spells like ‘Web’ and “Misty Step’ while fighting. He hadn’t been able to afford to learn anything else at the time, so he became very proficient in conjuration magic. Conjuration spells became easier to cast, more powerful and better controlled than other magic he knew.

If Wil was honest with himself, he had been a terrible student at the Academy. Even if he reviewed his tutor’s notes and practiced his spells in private, he hadn’t applied himself much to learning.

His lack of effort, combined with his middling talent made him a second rate spellcaster compared to others in his class.

His hindered learning meant that he hadn’t learned a lot about the more advanced aspects of spellcasting. Particularly, specialization in schools of magic.

He knew that as a mage gained higher ranks, they tended to focus on one area of magic, or school. For example, evocation or divination. He thought it was because magic was expensive, so it was easier and more efficient to learn spells of a single school.

All spells of a similar school were structured very similarly. When Wil had learned ‘Web’ and ‘Misty Step’ he had an easier time learning one after the other, since they were both in the ‘conjuration’ school and shared a common spell theory.

It wasn’t until he visited the Mage Guild to purchase additional spells that he learned how wrong he was.

Part of it was the familiarity of the spells, but all Mages tended to drift to a school that matched their talent as they progressed. Selecting a school made it so that their spells were twice as effective for half the effort.

For Wil, his preference for Conjuration magic made it so that he should stick with spells of that school, anything else would be more draining and inefficient.

So, Wil had chosen ‘conjuration’ as his school of magic. He could still cast other spells of different types, but his mana was now ‘attuned’ to conjuration and those spells would give him the most benefit.

He hadn’t known how behind he was in his studies until an acolyte at the guild had pointed out this basic magical knowledge to him. It was embarrassing, that he was a Rank 4 and knew less than a Rank 1 who was interning at the Guild.

Although, when he had left the academy months ago to travel east, he had barely been a Rank 1 himself.

Face red with shame, Wil had made a decision at that point. He had met with one of the guild representatives and asked to be accepted.

Normally, membership was only given to Academy graduates, but for Wil, it was unlikely he would be allowed to study their again until his father felt he had gained enough experience. Facing years away from his studies, the Guild had made an exception and allowed him entry.

As a Mage Guild member, Wil was entitled to all the spells the guild had available. More importantly, he had access to the training and knowledge he desperately needed. The Guild would mentor him in magic, like Garman was mentoring him to survive.

Over four months since he arrived, Wil was a completely different person than he arrived. He was focused on his training, his studies and his responsibilities. Although his obligations now included a lot of Garman’s as well.

His spell book was full of conjuration magic up to the 2nd tier. Along with ‘Web’ and ‘Misty Step,’ Wil had added, ‘Cloud of Daggers’, ‘Flaming Sphere’ and ‘Dust Devil’. The last was an exclusive magic that only Members could learn.

A side effect of his intense study of conjuration magic was a newfound understanding on how the school functioned. He saw the world around him in a different way, his place within it was more…fluid. He could create small objects from nothing but his mana.

Conjuration bent the laws of reality, allowing him to manifest his desires into existence. With experience, he could travel the world at a thought, create items and even creatures from nothing.

It was incredibly powerful and useful but required a large chunk of his time to dedicate to practice.

Despite his gains, Wil was exhausted. Physically, Mentally and Spiritually, his time in Aachen was wearing on him. The constant fighting, the stress of survival, the causalities and even the very air seemed to be sucking the life from him.

It was as if the longer he stayed here, the more of himself he was leaving behind.

It didn’t help that he was plagued by nightmares. Visions of his past failures, the terror of future failings, it tormented him every evening to the point that shortly after arriving, he had told Garman about them.

“Nightmares?” Garman had responded. “I’m not surprised you’re having trouble sleeping, Junior. I’d be more worried if you were dreaming about gods damned fairies and unicorns. You want my advice for a good evening’s rest? Try drinking, works for me.”

It hadn’t worked for Wil, and the gods knew he tried hard enough. Even blind drunk, the dreams followed him.

Wil needed a break, a retreat from Aachen. He had already told Garman that after this Night, he would be going to Elbing for a few weeks. He wanted to visit Bell, Mara and Quentin. Apparently, her surprise had arrived, according to the letter she sent him a couple weeks ago.

Garman had enthusiastically agreed to the leave, to the point that he wanted to tag along. Although, he made it clear it was for the brothels. Perfectly clear…in detail. Even when Wil begged him to shut up, the man wouldn’t stop talking about it for nearly a week.

Wil climbed the steps to the newly arrived auxiliaries’ lodgings, dreading the coming encounter. When he had first met Garman, he couldn’t imagine what drove a man to be that angry and unpleasant. After doing this job for a few months, Wil perfectly understood where he was coming from.

It was a cycle just as bad as the Nights in Aachen. New auxiliaries arrived, eager and greedy, full of piss and vinegar. They were ready to make a fortune, fight the undead and become heroes. Even Wil’s group, over a hundred strong when he came to the garrison a few months ago, less than half a dozen were still here. Most had thrown their lives away on the failed bank raid.

The recruits wouldn’t listen to orders, explored areas they were told not to, and then they get themselves killed. Rinse and repeat. It had gotten to the point where Wil didn’t bother to learn their names.

Which was probably why Garman stilled called him ‘junior’ and ‘kid’, old habits.

Taking a deep breath, Wil shoved open the door, letting it bang loudly to get their attention. He walked to the head of the common room, barely looking around at their faces as he said his spiel.

“Good evening, I’m Auxiliary Vice-Commander Wil. I’m here on behalf of Commander Garman, who you all will be reporting to during your time here. Our section of the wall gets all the new coming auxiliaries, which means we’re stuck with you lot. If you survive the Night, you can request reassignment somewhere else.” Wil said in a bored tone.

Unlike Garman, Wil was indifferent to the newly recruited auxiliaries, rather than hostile.

“Alright, Night is in two days. You’ll be meeting me at the gates at sunrise on the day, we’ll go over you what you’ll be doing in detail then. But for now, know that you’ll be guarding priestesses of Secundus while they power the wards on the wall. I don’t care what you do until Night, and I don’t really care what you do on the wall, but your oaths require you to protect the clerics. You die before they die. Is that clear?”

Not waiting for a response, Wil started to walk out of the room.

“Two days, sunrise at the gates. Don’t be late!” He said, waving idly behind him with one hand, not caring if they had any questions.

The trio of companions looked at each other at the lackluster meeting. It looked like Wil may have had it harder in the West than they had in the East. With a nod, the trio leapt from their table and chased after their friend.