Each time an Archmage awakens, there is hope for the future.
That sentence used to carry more weight. Now, two centuries after the Empire's creation, a new Archmage doesn't inspire hope.
It inspires greed.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
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An airship. An actual, flying ship. Marcus still wasn't entirely sure he believed it, honestly. Maybe it was an illusion. Maybe it was a trick, or some kind of fake out. Revenge for nearly dropping Vistus, perhaps.
But it got harder to refute the closer they got, and though its shields appeared mighty, Marcus teleported the both of them inside easily enough. Which seemed to greatly alarm the people on deck, a dozen mages and twice that in soldiers turning to them.
Vistus' presence calmed them down quickly, and the captain of the ship joined them moments later. Marcus didn't care. The moment he actually set foot on the wooden boards he could feel the magic thrumming within, familiar but oh so strange.
There was an essence of enchanting, but it was too rigid for that. There was the hum of runic formations, but those flowed too fluidly. It was an enigma, a mystery, and Marcus found himself very eager to study it.
Vistus cleared his throat, and Marcus looked over. An older woman had joined the Archmage, and he raised an eyebrow. Probably the captain, but she seemed stiff. Nerves he was used to, by now, but this wasn't that.
No, she was suppressing irritation. Ah. One of those. Someone used to being in command, and not dealing well with being made to wait. Marcus nodded to himself, speaking after waiting another moment. "I could break it."
"Please don't," Vistus replied, rolling his eyes. "They're very expensive. This is captain Narva. Captain, meet Marcus Sepsimus Lannoy, King of Mirrania, Steward of the Ninth Province and the Last Archmage."
"Sir."
Marcus grunted. "Nice to meet you. So what can this marvel do, then?"
"Fly," the woman replied, tone very close to curt. Vistus cleared his throat again, and the captain stiffened. "The airship has flight capabilities, robust shielding and a modified hull. The shield has a one-way protective adaptation, allowing crossbowmen and mages to shoot at any approaching Hounds, and three dozen small gaps on the bottom of the ship allows us to selectively bombard the surface."
Vistus nodded to himself, pleased. "Indeed. Champions can't reach it, neither can Burrowers, and Calamities don't fly. Its single-target focus is somewhat lacking, but the damage it can inflict on hordes is extensive. Very extensive."
"I don't suppose your favorite, currently politically important and newest Archmage can take it for himself? Or violently commandeer it while you stand by and do nothing, perhaps?"
If the captain had been stiff before, now she seemed downright furious. Vistus hummed. "You can have it over my dead, cooling corpse. This one is mine."
"Shame." Marcus turned his attention back to the magic. "What am I feeling here, exactly? There are runes, and a lot of them, but they're too fluid. And something I would call enchanting, except it's not. A control unit, steering formations, something that's treading through the entire ship and thus probably how it flies. It's a marvel."
Vistus raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. Your skill with runes continues to grow?"
"Not really, but I learned a lot from my time inside the School of Life. Safe to say that this isn't nearly as advanced as that, but it's impressive all the same. I do better when the runes are spatially aligned."
"Let me show you around," Vistus offered, gesturing to the stairs. "I've no doubt you'll get one of these for yourself, so it's good if you get acquainted. Hells, I'm sure spatial enlargement could do wonders, though I don't expect anything here and now."
Marcus snorted. "Good. Spatially enlarging something is hard enough without this much magic around, and I'd have to be triple sure nothing would conflict. Which means I'd have to understand how these things work, which I don't. But someday, maybe."
"Maybe, then. Shall we begin?"
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Marcus stretched, watching the last of his army travel through the mountain pass. There were still Hounds, of course, but those could be dealt with. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't without death, but they were on track again.
Soon they'd meet up with the Mirranian army, and he was just so looking forward to it. He was absolutely sure no politics had been happening while he was away, and that everything had gone smoothly in his absence.
He snorted, causing Elly to turn. Marcus grunted. "Just thinking about politics. Please save me."
"You give orders, they obey. If they don't, hit them with a sword." Elly finished looking through her bundle of papers, stashing them away. "That always worked for me. Now, the army is saved, we've both rested and there seem to be no pressing issues. I wish to get physical."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Down, girl. I'm running out of ways to say 'it doesn't work like that'."
"Not what I meant, but it's interesting that your mind went there," Elly replied, grinning at him. "No, I meant a spar. You have a sixth matrix, I'm like, way faster, it would be almost irresponsible not to test our limits."
"I feel like you just want an excuse to touch me."
"I want to punch you," she corrected lightly. "And if I do that outside a spar, people start thinking I'm abusive."
"Can't have that."
"Exactly." Elly nodded, rolling her shoulder. "So, prepare to be punched."
Marcus said nothing, one second turning into two. Then four, and after that it got awkward. Elly sighed, making him raise an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want my consent to punch me?"
Her eyebrow twitched, but still she didn't move. Hah. All bark and no bite, that one.
He hummed. "Well, I suppose we can spar. I do, after all, have—"
Instinct screamed and he teleported himself away, his defensive suite snapping into place. Teleporting with two matrices was far more efficient than with one, if not quite so much as with three, but before a plan of attack could manifest itself Elly had vanished.
Fast.
Marcus turned just as a fist impacted his shield, draining an alarming amount of power. He retaliated by teleporting her away, and his eyes widened when a flood of energy rose to intercept his magic.
His spell failed, and Elly hit him again. Then twice more before he moved away, dropping his elemental protection to try his usual third-tier version of the spell. Life energy rose again, but this time he pressed. Elly vanished, which made him sigh in relief.
Partial magical resistance was more than bullshit enough.
It still took more power than it had before, and a sixth matrix wasn't really doing anything for him. It didn't help when one of her arrows nearly depleted fifteen percent of his reserves, it didn't help when she moved so fast he could barely keep up with her, and it didn't help when his more effective tricks were also hilariously lethal.
The only reason he wasn't calling bullshit was because he knew she was on a time limit, and a rather strict one at that. So he switched to playing defensive, using as little power as possible to evade her attacks. And Elly was fast, almost unfairly so, but she couldn't move instantaneously.
Nor could her arrows cross space like he himself could, and even when he wasn't teleporting he was moving. This was far from the first time she'd tried to counter his movement techniques with ranged attacks, and learning to be unpredictable had been high on his priority list.
Marcus shifted to the side, preparing to teleport again. Then a horrific idea came to mind, and there was no time to contemplate its downsides. This was a spar, after all. Trying new things and not getting killed when they failed was one of its main purposes.
So Elly punished him again, clearly expecting him to teleport or block, and instead Marcus let his shield drop. Six matrices blazed in his mind, and the universe aligned in his favor. The dinner-plate sized portal opened barely a fraction before her fist would have impacted his face, though by then most of the strength had already gone out of the blow.
But not all of it, and Marcus watched in utter glee as Elly punched herself. His reserves drained to less than half, so the spar was already over regardless, but the look on her face. Oh, the look on her face.
It hadn't been a hard blow, but it could have been. It could have been an arrow flying at hundreds of miles an hour. It could have been her blade, keening through the air and expecting a shield. It could have been something much, much more deadly than her own fist, and he could have aimed it at her face instead of her stomach.
But she still rocketed back, gasping as the air was knocked from her lungs. Marcus let out a surprised laugh, which very quickly turned into a cackle, and before long he was gasping for breath himself. Laughing in a way he had no hope to stop, Elly's scowl only making it worse.
"Yes, yes, very funny," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm married to a child."
Marcus managed to get out a few words, his grin so wide it was almost painful. "You- You should have seen your face. That was luck, it was sheer cosmic karma, but Silent Gods, your face. Stop- Stop hitting your- yourself."
He broke down laughing again, half collapsing against a boulder to avoid falling. It shouldn't have been that funny, but all the stress from the last few weeks seemed to be driving it onward. Elly finally cracked a smile, exhaling slightly harder than usual. He'd take it.
"Don't try that in real combat," she ordered, trying so very hard to be stern. It wasn't working overly well. "You need your shield, and if you mistime it, you die."
Managing to get himself somewhat under control, and straightening on his rock, Marcus waved his hand. "I know, I know. It just came to me, and I had to try. Maybe once I have a dozen matrices I can integrate it into my defenses, but that's going to take a few decades. Some spells I can scale down, make them less efficient or powerful in exchange for using less matrices, but six really is the minimum for portals."
"I feel like I lost even though I won," Elly replied, huffing dramatically. "That's the real magic here. It didn't even hurt that badly."
Marcus waved his hand dismissively. "Don't sulk, you've become even more bullshit than you already were. What, killing a Calamity all by yourself wasn't good enough? Had to beat up your poor husband too? Your ego must be paper-thin to be wounded so easily."
"Don't get insulting," Elly chided, offering her hand. Marcus took it, getting back to his feet and looking around. The fight had brought them to another part of the mountains, one he didn't recognize. Eh, finding their way back would be easy enough. "Another round?"
"Can't. I'm already halfway through my reserves, and I know for a fact your body is feeling the strain. Tomorrow, maybe, if the army doesn't need us by then."
Elly pouted but agreed, the former being an increasingly dangerous expression. If Vess was giving her lessons, the demon was going to have something to answer for. It didn't even look any different, somehow.
Getting back to the army was easy enough, as was a quick round of inspections. But there was nothing that needed his attention, so eventually he dropped Elly off with her officers. The group of seven startled when he did, but whatever. They were Elly's problem.
His usual complement of guards was waiting with them, unfortunately, so it was back to being King. To have to watch his tongue, act dignified and not express how boring it was to walk everywhere.
Surprisingly, Ponn was there. The shapeshifter worked for Vess these days, and so he didn't see her much. Not that they were friends, or anything, but she was among the first recruits of his Academy.
That, and she was the only shapeshifter allowed within a thousand feet of him.
The woman bowed when he turned to her, and it was hard not to notice the changes. She'd embraced being able to change her shape at will, it seemed, and though she had done that before, this was different. Back in Redwater she'd grown to a huge size, wielding a warhammer like it was a toy.
Now she looked more like when he'd met her, except… more. More agile, slimmer and stronger. Her hair framed her face perfectly, her clothes fit in a way that's only noticeable when they don't, and her face was free of any blemishes.
He wasn't sure if he could resist the temptation to fix his own imperfections, but Ponn seemed to have embraced it wholesale.
The woman straightened fully, her tone clear and precise. Whatever nervousness there once had been, it was well and truly gone. Hells, from what he was feeling she was a third-tier mage now. "Your Grace. Lady Vess bade me to report to you. There has been a development."
"Walk with me," he replied, nodding to his guards. The group spread out, giving him some semblance of privacy. Ponn fell into step next to him, and it struck him again how perfectly at ease she was. Then again, the shapeshifter had been training with Vess. And speaking of… "Why isn't Vess giving this report?"
Ponn answered after a moment, tone carefully neutral. "Lady Vess is currently establishing new relations within the Hells, and bade me to report to you in her stead."
"And you think she's lying?"
"I wouldn't presume to inject my opinion, your Grace."
"Speak freely, Ponn."
The shapeshifter didn't startle, exactly, but she did seem surprised. At what? Him knowing her name? Ponn cleared her throat. "Reporting to you should be of a higher priority than she deemed it to be, sir."
Oh. Well, that hadn't been what he'd expected. Marcus shifted, not sure how to reply to that.
"Well, at least it's not just Elly's officers that seem to dislike me," he finally said, tone dry. "Either way, the report. Please continue."
"Begging your pardon, sir, but that wasn't my impression."
Ponn didn't continue, making him sigh. "I already said to speak freely."
"Pardon any offence, sir, but you are not the Queen." The shapeshifter hesitated, forging on after a moment. "The Queen is known. Her powers are known, at least to an extent, and she interacts with her officers daily. You are not known. Your powers aren't known. None are sure of what, exactly, you are capable of, nor how to interact with you. Then there is the Queen's own opinion to consider, who has made it very clear in the past that any disrespect towards you will be met with severe disfavor."
"I see," he replied, not seeing in the slightest. "Meaning what, exactly?"
"Meaning that unless spoken to, the safest course of action for them is to wait for orders, and otherwise not interact with you at all, sir."
Oh. Well, that was a little depressing. Marcus hummed. "The report, please."
"Of course, sir," Ponn replied smoothly. "Until approximately seventy two hours ago, I was embedded into the secondary estate of the Imperial Great House Forrest. There I learned—"
"Sorry, seventy two hours ago? We're in the middle of a Dungeon Break."
Ponn raised an eyebrow. "I'm capable of imitating life other than just human, sir. It requires extensive training to do so, but my feline form is both durable and fast. Travel, even during times such as these, is quite possible, especially when enhancing my stealth with illusions."
"Right, of course." Marcus pushed down on a flash of curiosity. "Please continue."
"Sir. I incapacitated and impersonated one of the servants, and gained access to private communications between the third son of their patriarch and one of the commanders of their household guard. Over the next several days I uncovered the plot to, in short, kill Queen Elenoir and marry you into their House. There appears to be an informal alliance between them, House Bearon and House Percux. It is currently unknown to what extent this alliance will translate to direct support for the attempt."
Marcus slowed, rerunning the conversation in his head a few times. Each rerun made him feel colder, and he was almost surprised his breath didn't fog when he spoke. "They are, are they? I assume they will wait until after the Dungeon Break is over?"
"I have been unable to verify that, but it seems likely."
"Good, good." Marcus took a calming breath, nodding to himself. "Inform the Royal Guard, and send a message to both the Empress and House Forrest. If they attempt this grand plan of theirs, and regardless of the outcome, I'm going to crucify their patriarch and put him on display in their garden."
He took another calming breath and summoned Xathar, running his hand through the demon's mane when breathing didn't prove to be very calming. Marcus pulled out Vistus' gift while Ponn wrote something down, holding it up so that Xathar could sniff it.
The demon huffed greedily, crunching down on the offered hand. One that used to belong to a noble, and having since been removed by Vistus for one reason or another. Marcus didn't recall the details right this second, and didn't care to.
It was highly unlikely whatever House Forrest was up to was sanctioned by the Empress, and hopefully she could deal with the issue. And if not, well. Marcus liked to think he was someone who kept his word.
Xathar finished crunching down on his snack, bumping him on the shoulder. "You smell of rage, bush mage. What has happened?"
"The mice are scheming," Marcus replied, scratching the demon under his chin. Xathar rumbled in approval. "I might have to drown a few to keep the rest in line."
"I heard your kind keeps cats for that sort of business."
Marcus snorted, glancing at Ponn. "Yeah, I suppose we do. Come, I wish to hear more about House Forrest. House Forrest, and all the others."
Ponn inclined her head, not so much as flinching when Xathar exhaled a great plume of breath over her. The demon turned away, already losing interest, and started sniffing Marcus' pockets instead. Alas, he was all out of noble flesh.
For now.