“Ah, Alex, Claygon, welcome.” Baelin looked up as the young wizard and his golem stepped into his office.

The ancient wizard was bent so low over a map table, that his beard-braids threatened to scrape the painted surface of Thameland. Across a tabletop made of cork, a map was carved showing the realm, the sea around it, and the nearby coast of the Rhinean Empire. It was topographic, with cork rising up to represent mountains, and dipping down to illustrate valleys and other lowlands.

Dozens of pins pierced the cork, each capped with tiny carvings of castles, dungeon cores and cities. But these elements weren’t what drew Alex’s gaze the most, because hovering above the map,strange golden lines glowed—each shedding sparkling light—spider-webbing over the land, some even reaching across the sea.

He didn’t recognise them: but, from their shapes, he assumed they might be roads or rivers, but they didn’t match any he’d seen on any other map of his homeland.

“Evening, Baelin.” The young wizard stepped closer to the map, peering at the golden lines as Claygon came up beside him. Alex could feel his golem’s curiosity as he too stared down at it.

His hand raised slightly, a marble finger pointing toward the map as if drawn to the cork.

The motion drew Baelin’s sharp gaze, though Alex–his focus on the golden lines—hardly noticed. “What are those lines?”

“The fae roads as they appear in the territory of one Lord Aenflynn,” he answered, still scrutinising Claygon. “Our Hero friends—and their new…associate—have taken the liberty of informing us as to the roads’ locations and their network around your lands. It is a fine thing they’ve done; a tidy bit of negotiation on Drestra’s part. She’ll go far, in time, both in wizardry and in other fields, I do believe.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to you about that…I mean her going far in wizardry, and I want to talk to you about a lot of other things,” Alex said, his finger passing through one of the golden lines. It tickled his skin. “Is Professor Jules coming back soon?”

“At any heartbeat, I suspect,” Baelin said, his gaze boring into Claygon while the golem’s finger traced fae roads. “Why do you ask?”

Alex glanced at the double doors behind him then leaned toward the chancellor, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I told the Heroes.” For emphasis, he tapped his Marked shoulder—now covered by his cloak, shirt and the illusion spell.

The ancient wizard’s bushy eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “Well, well, that is quite the development. At a later, safer time, you and I will have to discuss how that came to be. I take it all went well?”

“I got punched.”

“Oh, is that all? Bah.” Baelin waved his hand dismissively. “Hardly trouble at all, the—Alright, Alex, it is bothering me, why are you having Claygon trace the lines of the fae roads?”

He cocked his head. “If you wished to call my attention to his handsome new appearance you needn’t have resorted to such subtle tactics; he already has my full interest.”

The chancellor floated into the air, hovering over the table and coming to levitate around Claygon, examining him like a curious fish orbiting a lure. Claygon paused his examination of the illusionary roads, his head turning in complete circles, following the ancient wizard’s movements.

He gave Baelin a slight little wave with two of his hands, drawing a chuckle from the goat beastman, who waved back. “Ah, an adorable gesture from such a devastating weapon of battle. An amusing juxtaposition: your sense of humour is improving, Alex.”

The golem cocked his head, looking down at the young, Themaish wizard. ‘Father…why not tell him…I am awake? He thinks…I am moving because of your…direction. That is…wrong.’

Alex could hardly fight the wide grin spreading over his lips. ‘Give him a minute. He complimented my sense of humour, right? Let’s let the joke continue a little longer,’ he thought.

‘This is…humour?’ Claygon asked.

‘To me, it is,’ Alex beamed.

“Hmmmm, the power radiating from him has increased dramatically! Most impressive! I see that his movements have grown smoother as well, almost true to life, really…” the chancellor paused before the golem, peering into his face. “The signature of his mana has…altered slightly as well. Fascinating. I wonder what new powers he might exhibit? Has there been any progress in his growing cognition? Has he changed internally as well as external—Why are you laughing?”

Baelin’s expression was puzzled as Alex bent over the map table, his body shaking with barely stifled laughter.

“I fail to see—Oh…oh my goodness!” He cried in delight, whirling back to face Claygon. “Yes…yes, I see now! Claygon, your movemen—Oh blast it, I must have finally grown senile!” The chancellor spread his hands as though welcoming a ship to harbour. “Ahhhh, my large friend! You have awoken at last, have you not?”

The golem slowly gave the chancellor two thumbs up.

“Hah! Glorious! Magnificent!” The ancient wizard clapped. “This is an absolutely wondrous development. How does it feel to think, to move, to act on your own power?”

“He tried to kill Cedric,” Alex reported.

‘Father…saying it that way removes the full picture.’ Claygon pointed out. ‘He will react negativ—’

Baelin’s laughter erupted, echoing throughout the chamber. “Oh my, considering what your creator just told me—”

“Father,” Alex corrected. “He calls me ‘father’.”

At those words, he felt a little surge of happiness rush through their link.

“Oh, now that is interesting.” Baelin stroked his beard-braids, their bronze clasps clacking together with the movement. “That says a great deal about your relationship. Some golems who awaken to cognizance see their creators as parental figures, but many simply see them as, well, creators, masters or leaders. Warmth defines the bond between you and him. It will be fascinating to watch how that develops in the future. But in any case, considering what you just told me, I think I can guess why he attacked our friendly Chosen One. Is Cedric still among the living?”

He peered at Claygon, not waiting for a reply. “I guess it would be safe to assume that he is, otherwise the conversation we’re having would be somewhat more dire. Claygon, you are unwounded and—while you are powerful—I should hope that the Chosen would have put up a little more fight than that.”

‘Father…could I have a pen and something…to write on again?’

‘Of course!’ Alex thought, immediately conjuring a forcedisk and producing both parchment and a writing tool.

The golem placed the paper on the forcedisk, using it as a desk while he slowly drew letters, which grew to form words.

He was…fast. No one…hurt. Father…calmed all.

“Ah, good, good, good,” Baelin said. “I daresay it would be a tad difficult to smooth over ‘Hero murder’ as an international incident. That would truly be the last thing I need today. This…new friend of the Heroes has been vexing me enough as it is.”

“New friend?” Alex asked.

“The little predator that guided our friends along the fae roads.” The ancient wizard gestured to the golden lines over the map, then wagged his finger at Claygon. “You watch him closely, my young, stony friend. There could come a day when son might need to protect father against him.”

Will…crush if needed. Claygon wrote.

“Hah! What a delightful personality you have. A Proper Wizard would kill for a companion such as you.” Baelin patted the golem’s broad, marble shoulder.

“Right, that reminds me,” Alex said. “I have something to tell you too: about the Heroes’ fae friend. I wanted to warn you about him.”

“Warn me?” Baelin cocked his head slightly.

“My fae friend, Gwyllain. He said that…” He paused, wondering what to call the white-bearded, moose-riding fae. “...he said that the Heroes’ new friend—Mr. Herofriend, let’s say—has a lot of different names. And he said that those names are…sticky, he called them.”

“Ahhh, that old fae trick.” Baelin nodded grimly. “I might have known. Clever, though, to have multiple names and put traps in all of them. It would take quite the expenditure of power and no small amount of skill. Hmmm, he no doubt is older than I had initially thought, and I’d guessed fairly old.”

He frowned. “The tricky thing is that—since he has multiple names—he could have laid traps in any number of names and titles. We should refer to him by one he likely has never used before. Mr. Herofriend should suffice: I would be very surprised if he had seeded those particular words with a magical trap. Only you could have thought of such a novel way by which to refer to him. Now, what else did your little friend say?”

“Oh, only that there’s dark rumours about Mr. Herofriend,” Alex said. “Something about ‘not playing gently with mortals’.”

“Ah, well that much I had guessed myself,” Baelin said grimly. “Hmmm, perhaps I should take my own measures. The fae are—by and large—an unpredictable people; it might be that Mr. Herofriend wishes to help us now, but that could change at any time. There is always an element of whim that one must be aware of when dealing with fae. Yes, I do believe my own measures will be necessary.”

“Yeah.” Alex looked down at those golden roads. Each promised new avenues for the Heroes to travel; they could respond to enemies quickly, come to the Research Castle at speed, and deploy armies over vast distances. But Alex wondered what hidden dangers might be ahead, both on those roads and off. “Well, the Heroes and I are going to be doing some preparations. This is just one more thing to prepare for.”

“Preparations?” Baelin cocked his head.

“Oh yeah, that was the next thing I have to tell you.” He glanced at the doors, listening for Professor Jules’ tell-tale gait moving down the hall. Silence met him. “The Heroes and I talked about some stuff, so I need a bit of a favour from you.”

He told the chancellor of the plan to increase the Heroes’ power: including passing on Baelin’s theories of tactics and combat, teaching Cedric and Drestra new and powerful spells from spell-books in the library, and his planned experiment with Hart. The more he talked, the closer Baelin came, leaning in and floating nearer, his goat-like eyes twinkling like stars on a crisp Thameish night.

“How…intriguing. I did offer to pass on some teachings to Drestra, but this…this will be far more magnificent. With the Heroes being such fine clay to work with, and hands as skilled as yours and mine to sculpt them…well, I am positively salivating to see what might result.”

You…will sculpt their flesh? Claygon wrote. They will die.

“Oh, no, my young friend, it’s just a figure of speech,” the chancellor said. “I merely meant that we will grant them the knowledge and skills to transform into their best selves.”

Figures…of speech…confusing.

“That they are, that they are, Claygon,” Baelin said. “Try living for a few thousand years and watching the popular expressions of era after era tumble away to be replaced by new ones. It can be positively mind-rending. Now, as for these teachings…I am in full support, of course, and I shall aid when I can.”

“That’s great,” Alex said. “Because there’s aspects of spellcraft I’d obviously have trouble teaching, and I won’t be able to help them at all with fighting techniques.”

“Hmmm,” Baelin mused. “We shall see how much my fighting techniques would be of help to someone like Hart. Do not mistake me: a Proper Wizard maintains their body and learns how to direct it in acts of necessary violence but—even at my great age—I would not by any means deem myself a master of modern melee and ranged combat arts. I learned to fight in a very different time, I perfected those skills and only expanded on them as necessary: most of my vast gift of time has been spent on wizardry, of course. I could well teach those interested a thing or two about the spear, club and axe, but to someone with generations of combat knowledge flowing through them…I do not know how helpful I could be.”

He tapped one of his beard-braids. “I think your method of improving his base physical capabilities to enhance his millenia worth of experience and skill is indeed the best method, unless we find some rather unique and formidable techniques to teach to him. Hmmm, perhaps there are some fighting manuals in the hells that we might uncov—Ah! That’s it!”

“What? What’s it?” Alex asked abruptly.

Baelin gave a low dark chuckle. “Over the next year, I of course will be sojourning to the hells for the express purpose of…slaying a number of Zonon-In’s rivals. This will be a large time commitment and would have been difficult to smoothly schedule when one considers my administrative duties, other duties, my time on the expedition, as well as teaching my students in various years’ The Art of the Wizard in Combat.”

He raised a finger. “But what if we slay five dragons with a single meteor?”

“I, uh, don’t think that’s how that expression goes—”

“For you see!” Baelin smiled, unabated. “You and many others have learned a great deal about combat on this expedition, as you did in the Barrens. So, I think it’s time to set you forth against more exotic prey.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes,” Baelin chuckled. “I think it is time to tell you, your cabal, your friends and the Heroes…to go to hell. Or rather, to come to multiple hells…with me. I will seek out the greatest quarry, of course, but everyone else will benefit by having armies to fight, and magics to defeat. You will all learn a great deal from a period of extended demon-slaying.”