This time, the meeting room was filled with people. The long table seated the battalion commanders and other senior officers, with General Asher and Lord Theodor at the head. The division lord had just returned from Pel Darni the day before, so it was the first time Edwin saw him. Tall, with immaculate blond hair and a sword at his hip, he had an uncanny resemblance to a certain statue that proudly towered over Pel Darni’s main square. He wore a tailored suit with the sigil of house Lidion embroidered on its chest, the deep blue color of the garment blending in seamlessly with the crisp uniforms the soldiers wore. The only ones not sticking to the color theme were the adventurers, Edwin and Bordan in their regular clothes and Leodin and Salissa wearing their armored coats. Bordan had been given a seat at the big boys’ table, a third of which was reserved for the expected guests, while the rest of them sat along the wall with the cohort commanders and other more junior officers and staff members.

People were still standing near their assigned seats, the low murmur of conversation pervading the room being abruptly cut off by the opening door. A grey robe swept into the room, then another one and another, until the space around the entrance was a sea of grey fabric with colorful accents. Edwin realized he was holding his breath, and slowly let it out.

Lord Theodor walked toward the first of the newcomers with a wide smile, gripping the man’s hand in both of his and shaking it.

“Welcome to the fort, Gregory. The circumstances may be disagreeable, but I am glad to have you with us. Did you have any trouble getting here?”

The mage, a stern older man with a shaved head, returned the handshake.

“Thank you, Theodor. The journey was fine, but there was a small irritation beforehand. Viola actually proposed to send me to the capital, can you believe it? She wanted to give leadership of your delegation to someone who just made master, because if 4th division didn’t get a High Councilor, neither should yours.”

Theodor cringed. “Ventriol. The war woke the old mongrel from his drunken stupor and he has been meddling ever since. I am sorry you had to trouble yourself with this because of us.”

Gregory snorted, shoving his hands into his robe’s sleeves. “Trouble? The fool didn’t even bother to buy a majority vote. Trenwen and Lidion have been allies since the Exile, to think they could divide us with so little effort is more of an insult than anything else.”

“Hah!” Theodor barked, slapping Gregory’s shoulder. “It really is good to see you again!” The division lord waved the general over, introducing him. “General Asher, meet Master Gregory. Gregory, why don’t you introduce your colleagues so we can get this meeting started?”

“Of course,” Gregory said. He wasn’t old enough that Walter had known him, but the dark brown stole with the silver borders had told Edwin who he was at first glance. Master of Materialism. As one of four primary faculty heads of the Harvand College, he was one of the ten most influential mages in the three duchies. Exactly the kind of person Edwin had no business being in a room with.

Gregory began introducing the other mages. There were three other masters, a healer, an alchemist, and a master of Fauna Studies. The rest were journeymen of all ages, as only the mages most dedicated to their chosen field took the time and effort to become a master.

“I am sure you remember Master Morten – he was Master-in-Residence at the Pel Darni hospital before all this. He is the chief healer of our delegation. Our spellweavers, the few that we have, are led by Journeyman Ferraline, assistant to the deputy faculty head. Finally, Journeyman Archibald over here is one of the brightest minds in our ritual research department and heads our ritualists.”

The mages stepped forward as they were introduced, looking around the room and nodding in greeting. Morten, his bright white healer’s robes even more out of place than the adventurers’ brown coats, wore an impressive scowl. Edwin wasn’t surprised. Becoming a master healer was extremely challenging, so only two types of people generally managed it. The first were idealists like Monrei had been, and like Walter’s former acquaintance they usually despised violence in all its forms. The second were the overly ambitious who sought the prestigious but easy life of a Master-in-Residence at a hospital or professor at the College. To them, being forced onto a battlefield would feel like all their hard work and politicking had been for nothing. Either way, Morten was not happy.

The journeymen were both in their mid-twenties. Ferraline was tall, dark-haired, and absolutely stunning, and despite being among the youngest in the room, she held her head high and showed no trace of insecurity. Archibald, on the other hand, clearly felt out of his element surrounded by soldiers. The lanky, red-haired young man kept his head down, seeking shelter between his colleagues as much as he could without being obvious. As the general in turn introduced his senior officers, Edwin studied the dozen or so mages that represented the delegation. The other two masters, a portly man, and a short, white-haired woman. Several middle-aged journeymen, one of them with a pronounced potbelly even the wide robe couldn’t hide. None of them looked like they had any business being on a battlefield.

The introductions over, people took their seats. “Master Gregory,” Asher began, “what are we looking at, magically speaking?”

Gregory leaned back, thinking for a few moments. “The last two weeks have been quite chaotic, as you can imagine, but let me try to apprise you of the pertinent parts of our preparations. Like the general draft called all able-bodied men to arms, the defensive emergency compels any mage of at least journeyman rank to join the fight, unless age or illness prevents them. Our delegation consists of thirty-one mages, twenty of whom were residents of the Lidion barony while the rest of us traveled here from the College.

“After the announcement of the defensive emergency, the first measure the Council took was to open the vault that holds forbidden writings. Many of those texts pertain to magic with combat applications, and we keep them under lock and key to restore our offensive capabilities in as little time as possible in the case of an emergency such as this. Nobody expected that there would be a rift within the College itself, however.”

Gregory leaned forward, folding his hands on the wooden tabletop and continuing in a slow, measured voice.

“The most important text the College owns is the Codex. When the Mage Wars ended, the mages of the time compiled all combat spells known to them into a single tome, then hid copies of it away in secret vaults. The Exiles brought exactly one of those copies with them and used it to great effect in the war against the Volarki. Subsequently, it and all the other proscribed documents were locked away again, dispersed between all three branches with only the Inquisition knowing which text was stored where. We thoroughly searched the contents of our vault. The Codex was not there.”

Edwin leaned back, his head quietly thumping against the wall as he looked up at the ceiling.

Damn.

Asher and Theodor exchanged worried looks.

“If it was not stored here, the only logical location is Marrad,” Master Gregory said quietly. “Pertam has a vault, but it is less secure than the other two. The Inquisition would not have taken a chance with the Codex.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Asher asked anxiously. “Can you fight without it?”

“Yes, but we will be at a severe disadvantage,” Gregory said, turning to look at his companions. “Ferraline, this is your field. Please summarize the situation.”

“Yes, Master,” Ferraline said smoothly, rising from her seat. “The Codex contains detailed instructions on how to perform the most destructive spells that mankind has invented, chief among them the one most people think of when they hear combat magic: Fireball. If the Marradi have the Codex, this allows them to immediately begin training their mages in the casting of these spells. Now, learning a spell is not as easy as reading it from a book. To be able to safely cast a spell, a mage needs to be able to know it perfectly and visualize every part of it to the last detail. Think of it like learning a poem, except while you can read the letters, you do not have an intuitive understanding of the words or their pronunciation while getting them right is vital to your success. It is possible, but it takes time.

“That we do not have those instructions does not mean that we are unable to create them, however. Among the works in our vault were a number of historical accounts that give detailed descriptions of how these spells looked and behaved in battle, as well as their capabilities. Starting from this information, we can reverse engineer them and create our own versions – which is why these accounts were locked away. In fact, if the goal was simply to design a spell that allowed me to throw a fireball with comparable destructive power, I could complete that design within a few days. Casting that spell would likely drain my mana entirely, however, meaning I could cast it once every one or two days. From the descriptions in our books do we know that using the Codex version, a regular mage can cast at least four fireballs in succession without incurring so much as a headache. As both spells likely take a comparable amount of time to learn, going down this route would leave us at a disadvantage for the entire duration of the war. The objective of the Spellweaving faculty is therefore to create as good a copy as we can before distributing it for memorization, which will take some time.”

Uneasy whispers buzzed around the room. One of the battalion commanders leaned forward.

“What does the timeline look like, then? When will the Marradi have those spells, and when will yours be ready?”

Ferraline paused, shifting uncomfortably. It was the first time she had shown any sign of apprehension since entering the room.

“Assuming that the Marradi are in fact in possession of the Codex, and that they began copying and distributing the formula immediately… Our best guess is that learning it will take two to three weeks, which means we might see the first fireballs in a week’s time. While the Spellweaving faculty has begun working on the problem immediately, we expect to need another few weeks to get close enough to the original’s level of efficiency to be of any use. Then, an additional three weeks to learn it…”

“So,” General Asher said quietly, “we are looking at a month of being one-sidedly pummeled with siege spells before we can even fight back.”

“Sadly, that is the reality,” Master Gregory said, nodding at Ferraline to take her seat again. “but that we are unable to fight back does not mean that we are unable to defend against it. I can assure you that each faculty is working around the clock to produce options, both offensive and defensive, that can give us an edge in combat.”

The room was quiet as the gathered officers digested the information. Finally, Lord Theodor steered the conversation to less gloomy matters, and Journeyman Archibald was called to give an account of the supplies the mages had brought with them, which were mostly Magesilver and mana crystals.

“Now that all elements of our force are gathered,” General Asher addressed his battalion commanders, “the time for training is over. I just received a bird from General Ossick. 1st Division is being pressured on several fronts and their forces are stretched precipitously thin. He asks that we make all possible haste south and reinforce his position. That means we leave tomorrow.”

A ripple went through the seated officers.

“General,” one of them said carefully, “that is too narrow a timeframe. We need at least a full day to achieve readiness, maybe more.”

“We don’t have a day to spare!” Asher said sharply. “The entire time we have been training, the first three divisions have been holding the front against ever-increasing pressure. With the magical component we have just learned about added to the equation, every day that we are not there the probability of the war taking a catastrophic turn rises sharply. We leave tomorrow. Expedite your preparations, and if you have trouble getting everything in order, prioritize vital resources and list everything you are missing. We can have fourth battalion pack everything we left and send it after us, but our men need to be at the frontline while it still exists. Questions?”

Silence.

“Then let us get to it. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped across the stone floor as soldiers stood and hurried out of the room, battalion commanders already in quiet but intensive conversation with their officers and lords. Bordan stood, turning to his teammates with a grim expression when Asher called, waving them over.

“I know the timing could hardly be worse, but General Staff finally sent their recommendation on how to incorporate our adventurer contingents. You will be concentrated into a unit of your own, the ninth auxiliary battalion.”

He pointed to the side, where two men had stayed behind as the others fled the room.

“These are Major Gerrack, your new commander, and Lord Amos, your battalion lord. As of right now, they are in command of you and your guildmates.” Asher noticed the disgruntled expression on Bordan’s face, and his gaze softened. “I know this is sudden, and with our departure fast approaching, you have little time to acclimatize. This is not a punishment, and it was not supposed to be an ambush either. The major will have battlefield command, but I will still lean on you for advice, as was intended all along. You will all need to work together if we are to succeed, and as you adventurers lack a proper command structure of your own, you may even see it as me giving you much-needed reinforcements. Is this going to be a problem?”

“No problem, General,” Bordan said, saluting with a fist over his heart. “If you would excuse us, we need to get our battalion ready to move.”

They filed out of the room, descending the stairs in silence. As they left the headquarters which was abuzz with nervous activity, Edwin looked up at the sky. It was already a few hours past noon. In twelve to sixteen hours they would be leaving the fort for good, only returning if the war was won or they got pushed back so far that Pel Darni became the new frontline. They should probably start packing.