"This is the Crown Prince," the Caldir captain barked, Marcus wishing he'd stood further away from the loud—if accented—man. "Our general has managed to secure some of his time to teach you advanced magical theory, and you will not squander this opportunity. Am I understood?"
Sixty four voices rang out in affirmative, the soldiers standing perfectly at attention. It was strange to see mages so militarized, but Marcus supposed Elly was justifiably paranoid.
A mage had killed her entire continent, after all.
The captain, a mage himself, turned back towards Marcus with a satisfied nod. "All yours, your Grace."
"Thank you, Brazzon. Please have them sit down."
Brazzon lowered his tone, turning just enough that no one saw him talk. "It would be better for you to do so, your Grace. It reinforces the chain of command, and while you are technically not in it, it's the spirit that matters. And true enough in the classroom besides."
Marcus shrugged, silently agreeing and loudly barking at the soldiers to sit down. A minor spell amplified the sound, making it roll over them like a wave, and he saw surprised eyes snapping to him even as they obeyed.
Ah, right. He was still holding his three other matrices. The stones fell from where they were suspended in his pocket, dropping his active spells to zero. Captain Brazzon seemed satisfied, taking a step to the side.
"Raise a hand if you can hold one spell matrix," Marcus said, watching all hands rise. As expected. "Now keep your hand raised if you can hold two matrices at once."
About half fell off, mostly the younger looking men and women among them. Marcus nodded, calling for those able to hold three, and every hand went down. Interesting. He expected at least one of them to have the talent, statistically.
"Captain, summarize your unit's previous battle experience for me."
Brazzon straightened, taking a moment before speaking. "The unit was created by Queen Itza Marsennius during the Plague of Vidmon, its primary purpose being the containment and eradication of the necromantic constructs created by the Mad Mage. We served under Princess Elenoir during the Lowlands Campaign, then again during the Long Night on the Sea. During the Long Night we specialized in reconnaissance and rescue, and our current duty is to assist in terraforming efforts during camp construction."
Well, that raised far more questions than it answered, but good enough. So, experienced in war but not particularly well trained in magic, at least not to his standard. He could work with that.
Marcus carved a simple two-matrix spell exercise into the dirt, meant to promote split magic coordination. Nothing hugely impressive, though as the Caldir captain looked at it he stiffened slightly. "Everyone can read, I assume?"
The captain nodded. Good. Elly had told him as much, but you never knew what people hid to avoid embarrassment or perceived failure.
He stepped aside as the captain called squads forward to memorize the instructions, walking back towards Xathar. That really hadn't taken nearly as long as expected, and with the first exercise being about dual matrices most of them could help their comrades should any problems arise.
Hells, he was pretty sure even those who were able to wield dual matrices hadn't achieved that feat through proper control practice. There were many ways to get there, of course, from innate skill, to practise, to ever unreliable luck, but nothing quite beat a proper foundation. And now they were under his tutelage, so nothing less was going to be required.
Marcus guided Xathar through a relaxed tour of Elly's military camp, the two weeks they'd had since coming ashore having transformed the mostly empty field into a veritable bastion. Magic sped up large labor tasks something fierce, and besides that, Elly worked her people hard.
She said it was to keep them occupied, which he believed, but Vess had also said Elly felt most at home among soldiers. Amongst the sounds of training recruits, hammering smiths and bellowing officers.
Not that he was going to tell her what to do with her people. If she wanted to build a fortress, she could build a fortress.
But that wasn't what she was doing now, he found. No, instead she was some ways away from her camp, having settled on a hill which overlooked the nearby river. The mill on it had been evacuated, Helios thinking it a good idea to keep their two populations separate until they got settled properly, but it made for a beautiful backdrop.
The people who'd been asked to move had been well compensated, regardless, and would get their windmill back soon enough.
Elly looked up as Xathar slowed, having been quietly meditating with her students. Dozens of them, ranging from old and young to in shape and not. There was an energy in the air he was coming to associate with Life Enhancement, and Marcus looked over the pupils.
Half were sourced from the local populace, after all. A sort of trade between him and Elly, to teach each other's population their specialty. Finding those willing to learn Life Enhancement, let alone capable of it, hadn't been easy, but the results would be worth it.
He hoped.
Marcus dismounted, seeing Xathar stare at a pair of wild chickens and licking its demonic lips. Marcus ignored the rather disturbing sight, smiling as Elly weaved between her silent students. He detached a basket from Xathar's harness before the demon went off chasing small game, holding it up. "I brought lunch."
"What?" Elly blinked, looking at the basket. She turned towards the mill, apparently more confused than anything. "Uhm. Right? We can eat up there?"
She jumped before he could answer, sailing up and away. Marcus frowned, weaving four telekinetic matrices. Thick, strong appendages sprung from his back, pure force leaving little visual detail. He rose, using them to climb after her.
Marcus sat himself down next to her on the roof of the mill, Elly seemingly having found a flat portion for them to sit on. Her legs dangled off the side, more muscles than his own yet somehow managing to make it look better, and she looked at the stretch of farm fields and forest. They were facing away from her students, which was good for privacy, and Marcus put down the basket.
"Sorry if this is sudden," he offered, spreading out the food. Freshly baked bread, watered down wine, fruit and cheese. Marcus cleared his throat. "It was Helios' idea, if you're looking for someone to blame."
Elly shrugged, a not quite smile on her face. "It's fine. Nice, in fact."
"In that case I came up with it myself."
She snorted as he pulled out more food, her eyebrows climbing. "How'd you fit so much in there?"
"Spatial enlargement. I was messing around with it, trying to come up with some way to make it viable for large-scale storage. No real luck yet, it requires maintenance we simply don't have the trained mages for, but the basket is stable. The cooks went a little overboard, I'm thinking."
He shrugged sheepishly, offering her a cup. She took it after a moment.
"Considering that's an entire roast chicken, I'd say so," she replied, shaking her head. Dirty blond hair caught the sun, briefly distracting him. "Is this a date?"
Marcus shrugged. "I mean, we are getting married. Love is unnecessary for political affairs such as that, but we can at least be friends? And, I've been told, friends do stuff. Things. Events, even."
"You were a lonely child, weren't you?"
"I was a lone child," he corrected lightly. "Lonely implies I had feelings beyond curiosity and irritation. So how has your day been?"
Elly gave him a flat look. "Smalltalk, really?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Please, miss social butterfly, do give us something real to talk about."
"Why is there no religion on your continent?"
Marcus paused. "Alright, I thought the sarcasm was implied. That's on me. Do you actually want to know? It's not that interesting."
"Better than talking about my day. Something that I, having lived it, don't feel the need to recap."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Short version, magic. You'll find that's a theme around here. Magic promoted learning, learning promoted understanding, understanding gave rise to questions. Not to be a dick, but most faiths I've read about don't like questions. They prefer devout, blindly loyal followers. Things like 'but if your God is so great, why has 'example a' you preach about been disproven?' tend to make priests annoyed."
"I also assume the Archmages had something to do with it."
"Less than you'd think," he replied, shrugging. "They are powerful, yes, but neither are they proper Gods. Not really. Some play at it, of course, but divinity is another matter entirely. If one of them figured out how to become one, which I doubt, they haven't shared nor been seen. Either way, the Gods are silent, the priests died out, magic is seen as the path forward. The path to defend against the dungeon."
Elly hummed. "Everyone keeps talking about that. The dungeon. I only know a little: A big hole in the center of your strangely round continent, spewing forth monsters intent on wiping civilization from the face of the planet. But with three Archmages you'd think the Empire would have solved it, not to mention the sheer number of soldiers they can deploy with a population as large as they administer."
"The dungeon isn't a problem to be solved," Marcus explained, rolling a piece of cheese between his thumbs. "And it's a hole, yes. But as far as we know it has no bottom, and it's almost fifty miles wide at its greatest. The Empire pulls resources from it, though I don't know the details. The true danger comes from dungeon breaks. A time when a near endless, surging tide of monsters spewed forth and started eating and killing and breeding. It's why the Empire was created; to endure them."
By the look of her she clearly didn't get it, he supposed she got it about as clearly as he got 'magical zombie plague'. He cleared his throat after a moment of silence.
"How's the training going? Any of my people showing promise?"
"Some," she allowed, spearing a piece of cured meat with a fork. "Their initial talent is fairly low, which could be because of a lot of reasons. My people grew up idolizing Life Enhancement, for example. Childhood stories, teenage fantasies, parental encouragement. I don't know a single person who didn't take up meditation, though few stick with it and fewer have the talent. Your people have none of that. It will take time. How about my mages?"
"They're disciplined and experienced. They just lack some basic magical skills, maybe requiring some more time with books and less with the sword. It's good for them to have martial skills, don't get me wrong, but holding more matrices can only bring you so far. Knowledge, speed of spell creation, breadth of properly mastered spells. All of that matters too."
Elly apparently agreed by falling silent, Marcus shrugging internally and spinning up his most advanced control exercise. Four loose tiles rose from the roof, slowly starting to orbit one another in increasingly complex patterns.
His mind strained as he regulated their individual speed, ever so carefully making sure they didn't hit one another. It went well for almost thirty four seconds, a new record, before the dance destabilized and the tiles started scratching against each other. Marcus set them down, sighing.
Elly spoke up a moment later. "We're getting married."
"So we are. I prefer to see it as saying a bunch of words, swearing mostly empty promises then smiling as nobles pretend to be happy for you. If you were hoping for a romantic affair, I'm afraid I, and my culture, will have to disappoint."
"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "Political marriages are loveless affairs, nothing to get upset over. It's what comes after that we should probably talk about."
"I could kill myself to avoid it? I don't particularly care to think about it, more realistically."
She gave him a flat stare, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I'm serious."
"Yeah." Marcus looked out over nature, sighing. "So, nothing is going to happen. There will be a party, gifts, 'fun' games, all that. Then we'll retire, everyone will assume we're doing our so-called duty, and instead we'll be going to sleep. In separate beds, preferably."
Elly, for some reason, scowled. "If you're trying to protect me, don't. I know what's expected, I'm prepared to do my duty. What I don't need is some white knight coming to my rescue."
"Vess called me a mutant freak the first time we met," Marcus replied. "The plan is for my benefit more than yours, though I hope I'd have offered you an out regardless. I can appreciate beauty, and pardon the crudeness, but I don't get the urge to fuck it. Never really have, and if a literal succubus can't seduce me, you'll have to forgive me for assuming our wedding night will be nothing but disappointment."
She opened her mouth, clicked it shut, then leaned back on the roof with an oddly exhausted look on her face. Marcus didn't really know what to say after that, so he said nothing at all. It was surprising how often that turned out to be the correct course.
Elly spoke after a long minute, Marcus having slowly assembled a chicken sandwich to keep his hands busy. "That wasn't what I was expecting."
"Sorry?"
"Don't apologize for how you were born," she dismissed. "There are options. Potions and the like. I've heard of some people who need a particularly strong emotional connection before having sex, too."
Marcus grinned weakly. "I've kind of been banking on becoming individually powerful enough that no one can pressure me into having children."
"The fastest way to destabilize a Kingdom is to make its future uncertain," she lectured, Marcus rolling his eyes. He knew that, of course. "But you're probably right. Not like I'm all that eager to have offspring myself."
He perked up. "Excellent. So we'll combine our individual power to lie, threaten and coerce people into not caring. I'm willing to abuse my magic to that end with great enthusiasm."
"Just- Let's just get married first," Elly replied, sounding exasperated. "Now, I have some questions. Fairly basic stuff, but I figured you could answer them better than most."
Marcus was more than happy with the change of subject. "Shoot."
"I'll go rapid fire since I do have a lesson to get back to. Are Archmages immortal?"
"No. Increasing life span at all is nearly impossible, let alone halting the aging process entirely. I won't bore you with all the ways people have tried and failed, but if you can think of it, it's already been attempted. Healing doesn't work, though it can keep you healthy until you do die of old age, temporal magic does very nasty things if you try to live in altered time, the list goes on. Even the School of Life, which is by far the most advanced artifact I've ever seen or heard of, imposes memory fatigue if you try to use it to stretch your lifespan out."
"The same as with Life Enhancement, then. How did your father know where to find us, me, with dreamwalking, and can you do the same?"
"It's a bloodline ability, so you'd think so, but no. It tends to go dormant, skip entire generations, perhaps it needs specific—other—bloodline combinations to activate, et cetera. And dreamwalkers can feel people's dreams. You being on the ocean, where no one else was, made your fleet stand out. Singling you out from there isn't so hard."
Elly stood, nodding. "I see. Thank you. One last thing. The Mad Mage, the one who killed my kingdom and wiped all life from my continent, is going to die. Not now, not soon, but I am going to plunge my sword through his skull and watch the life drain from his eyes. I wouldn't mind some help."
"I do suppose your enemies are my enemies," Marcus replied, tone mild. "Could be fun to kill an Archmage, I suppose."
She smiled a savage smile. "Fun, yes. That is one way to describe it. And if my enemies are yours, then it seems only just that your enemies are mine. My fleet is ready to be repurposed as building material and what warships I still have, have joined your navy to patrol the bay. I'll see you tonight, Marcus."
"I'll see you tonight, Elly."
Marcus sighed when she was gone, having jumped off the roof without a care for its height. Well, he supposed he'd made her uncomfortable if she was condensing half an hour's worth of conversation into one breath. Still, progress had been made. Bonding had happened, if he was feeling generous.
It seemed alliances, like castles, were built one brick at the time.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Marcus looked up as someone knocked on the door, putting down the quill and flexing his hand. Marking papers wasn't his favorite activity, and honestly he didn't do it much, but the advanced classes were a different matter.
Double checking his most promising student's work was a small sacrifice to make, and ensured that they were on the right course.
The door opened, Duke Helios walking inside. The man bowed, oddly formal, and it made Marcus sigh. "What now? Don't tell me the Barons are doing another 'protest'."
"Not that," Helios replied, smiling. "You will have to admit they have a sense of humor, at least. Protesting the policy changes regarding bakeries by handing out free, and old, bread was almost ironic."
"Half of those bakeries used rotten eggs, expired milk or worse. Especially in the poorer district of the city. Change was needed, and it will set a precedent for other changes I plan to make in regards to the various guilds in the city."
Helios took a seat, humming approvingly. "So it will. I am glad you paid attention during all those lessons in your youth. I'll admit to being worried about your rapid ascent to power, but you are doing well."
"I'm adapting, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I've done well. Now why are you here, Helios?"
The older man sighed. "Your father. He's getting worse, and Margaret doesn't think he will pull through."
"She informed me, so I'm aware."
"You need to talk to him, Marcus," Helios said, apparently deciding bluntness was the way to go. "For all the issues between you, he is still your father. I thought things were going better?"
Marcus tsked. "Things were stabilizing, not improving. And I find myself quite busy actually ruling a Kingdom, one that hasn't seen its King for weeks."
"You need to talk to your father," Helios repeated, tone growing hard. "Dislike him all you want; everything he did, he did for you. To ensure you ruled after him, continuing the legacy. You have no idea what he's sacrificed."
The Duke didn't quite flinch when Marcus looked at him, though Marcus knew his eyes were lighting up. They always did when he was particularly emotional, and anger made them flash brighter than most.
"No, I don't know, do I? Let's not pretend things were great and wholesome before he tricked me into the School of Life, Helios. I can count on one hand the number of times we talked about matters not related to my future, to my studies or my shortcomings. I can count on one hand the amount of time when he took an interest in my hobbies, when he was actually being a father instead of the King."
"You were not an easy child to approach."
Marcus barked out a laugh. "Oh, beg pardon. Was the nine year old, socially isolated boy not easy to connect with? Was he difficult to talk to, always complaining about funding and magic? Was he not normal enough? I was a child who didn't understand the world, Helios. Who hid behind what he did understand to avoid loneliness and the pain it brought. Don't tell me I have no idea what he's been through when I barely fucking know the man."
"You need to go see your father," Helios said again, standing. "I won't argue your point, Marcus. We failed, him and me both, after your mother's passing. We did the best we could and it wasn't enough. Now go speak to the man, speak to someone who won't be here for much longer, and do it if only to spit in his face. For your own sake, get some closure."
The door closed before Marcus could come up with something suitably snide in response, and he tried to focus on his work again. He gave up after a few minutes, standing as an annoyed scowl took over his face.
The Duke wanted him to talk to his father? Fine. Fine. He'd go talk to the King. The King who might as well have taken up the knife himself, the King who married him off without so much as asking beforehand. He'd talk to his absentee father, for all the good it would do.
Marcus left his study, all but ghosting through the halls of his castle. And it was his castle now, wasn't it? It had been since captain Yonas and his Royal Guard had given him their loyalty. No, not loyalty. Loyalty had to be earned. Their obedience, as harsh as that sounded.
Either way, a castle was no good without servants and guards. They patrolled its walls, ensured its gate was locked and the tower remained secure. And since Marcus had the obedience of the Royal Guard, it was his castle.
It was a strange thing to think about, but that was what went through his mind while he marched through the corridors. It went through his mind even as he came to his father's room, the two Royal Guards at the door saluting as he passed them.
There wasn't even a healer inside. Marcus had almost expected one, but no. There was nothing. Just his father, Edward Solomis Lannoy. The King. Already old for a decade and a half, having aged prematurely due to his wife's death. Now old in a much more sickly and frail way, sleeping poorly and without dreams.
Margaret had kept him informed.
For a moment Marcus thought his father was asleep, it probably would have been easier if he was, but the man stirred. Opened his eyes, taking a long moment to focus on him. "Marcus."
"Father," Marcus replied, taking a seat. The silence stretched for a long moment before he broke it. "You killed me. Over and over until the pain broke what was left of my childhood. Until it and necessity forged me into something altogether stronger, yet undeniably less happy."
The King took a shaky breath. "I know. I'm sorry, my son. I didn't know."
"Yet ignorance does not absolve you. Not in my eyes. But I also understand it, which is probably why I hate you the most. Hate that you choose the Kingdom over me, over my wellbeing and wishes. Helios all but demanded that I come here, but I don't know why I did. You don't have any answers that would satisfy me."
"There are no answers," the King rasped. "And those that are handed to you are worthless. This world is wrong, Marcus. It is sick and dying. Whole continents are going silent, the dungeon is growing worse than ever and allies are few and far between. To weather the storm the people need someone strong to lead them, and I felt I had no choice."
"I can't save the world, father."
Something almost pitiful passed through the old man's eyes. "I am dying. Will die soon enough. Elenoir is here now. You are more worthy of the Crown than I could have ever dared hope for. What happens now is up to you, not me."
"You're not dying that quickly," Marcus interjected. "Certainly not today. So I will take my revenge by having you do the one thing no old, dying man wishes to do. I'll make you do paperwork."
A surprised laugh came from the man, making him cough something fierce moments later. It subsided after a moment, the King shaking his head slowly. "You have everything you need to rule."
"Theoretically true, but you have experience I do not. So in a moment I'm going to have one of the guards fetch ledgers, books and paper, and we are going to find a way to make sure the Barons don't stage a revolt. We're going to strategize a way to make sure Duke Hargraf and his Moderates don't invite the Empire onto our lands, and then, if there's time, we're going to do even more."
The King raised a shaking hand. "I'm not much good with a quill anymore."
"You still have your mind. It will have to do."
Marcus watched a glint of purpose appear in the King's eyes. "Very well. Let us plot, my son. Let us plot and scheme and strategize. It is the least of what I owe you."