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Chapter 55 Consolidation arc
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 06:24:12 +0000 UTCPdf and epub versions below.
Burrowers are one of the greatest threats to fortifications built to defend against the Dungeon. Worms as large as trees, and often about as smart, joined by aggressive moles as numerous as ants. Tunnels large enough for Hounds to travel through spread in their wake, and earth mages spend millions of hours each year to ensure the networks they create are sealed shut again.
If a Burrowers tunnel is found, fill it with fire. Fill it with rock. Fill it with anything on hand to ensure no monsters can pour through. Because no matter how empty it looks, no matter how many beasts have already been vomited from its earthen stomach, there will always be more.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
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“Tada,” Marcus murmured quietly, fishing his personal signet ring from where it hung around his neck. He pressed it into the wax seal near the bottom of the scroll, holding it for a few seconds, then put it away. “And just like that, people have rights.”
There was no one to actually answer him, but that was alright. The laws ensuring equal treatment of ‘non-human’ Mirranian subjects, passed. Rights enshrined, monetary incentives for being nice implemented, the whole thing. A document nearly fifty pages long, though thankfully he only needed to sign the last.
He’d done this before in Redwater, and really this new decree was just extending the zone of that, but his promise to Nora was complete. Now the bloodthirsty Elf he’d met in the School of Life could rest in peace.
…Assuming she’d ever existed in the first place, but that was a rabbit hole he wasn’t prepared to go down quite yet.
Marcus called for a scribe, who took the paperwork away, and the bureaucratic arm of the Crown would do the rest. Helios, Hargraf and Soema would be informed, who would be responsible for overseeing the Barons, who in turn would be responsible for making sure the Lords followed the new law.
Would it erase the mistreatment and marginalization of non-humans? No. But at least now they had a means of legal reprisal when someone went ‘fuck you for the way you where born’.
Sometimes people really tired him. Made him wish to vanish to some distant mountaintop, build a nice tower and do research for the rest of his life. Maybe convince Elly to come with, somehow. Create a stable portal into the Hells so she could hunt there, luring her back home with cheese and wine every few days?
No, no. Making escape plans was bad, ruling was good, he was a dutiful King.
Marcus stood, cracking his back and stretching his hand until the cramp went away, then moved towards the door. Enough sitting behind a desk. He had magical things to do.
Freezing over a river, in this case. Or at least studying the possibility of it. As the only fifth-tier mage in the Kingdom, he’d volunteered his power. It was an interesting enough question, and helping out the brighter students of the Academy seemed a worthwhile way of spending a few hours.
At least there were a few fourth tier mages now. Gretched, notably, as well as Barry. One particularly talented—and former—farmer, who seemed to be trying to make up for his age with sheer determination. Not Kleph, who seemed more interested in broadening his knowledge instead of pushing for more power output.
The man wasn’t exactly a warmage, so Marcus supposed that made sense. Neither were Gretched or Barry, though the latter came the closest.
He was sure the Empire had a rather terrifying number of fifth and sixth tier mages, actually. Probably old men and women, judging by the average growth level of his own people, but still. He could only imagine what those souls, uncaring for subtlety or efficiency, could accomplish with sheer raw power.
One fifth tier mage draining themselves dry with elemental spells was destructive. But five? Ten? There was a reason the Empire still existed, despite a fifty mile wide hole in the center of the continent spilling forth a seemingly infinite number of monsters. Which could well be truly infinite, because no one had found the bottom yet.
Marcus hummed and moved on, his usual guards slotting into place once he left the castle. Preparation for the Redwater festival was well underway, the City Watch out in force to both assist and ensure no opportunistic criminals got any ideas, and Marcus noted with some interest that they employed a fair number of mages.
Just one per twenty-man squad, but that was more than it had been. Far more. Mages summoning small creatures to scout ahead, offering healing where needed, even using simple divination spells to track criminals.
It was good to see the Academy's influence grow. He hadn’t been lying to the Council of Three—fuck, now even he was thinking of them like that—when he said he wouldn’t always be here to curtail greedy enchanters or upset nobles.
But onward his party moved, and he felt more relaxed than he had in a while. Usually being surrounded by guards irritated him, like living walls pressing too close for comfort, but Elly had actually given helpful advice.
Which sounded mean when he put it like that, but that felt appropriate. Her advice, after all, had been; ‘Don’t consider them people, but swords. Extensions of yourself. And a sword does what its master commands, meaning they can’t restrict you.’
Like he’d said, mean. But helpful, even if he was never going to actually tell them that. It seemed unhelpful to morale.
The Redwater river, flowing close around the city if not technically inside of it, came into view an hour later. It stretched wide enough bridges were needed to cross, and deep enough it supplied fresh water to half a million souls. And now he was going to try and freeze it over.
He doubted he would succeed. If it was stationary, maybe. If it was less wide and flowed less quickly. But it didn’t, and basic thermodynamics insisted he would need a frankly ridiculous power output to change water to ice.
But he wasn’t here to succeed. The Academy students were already there under the watchful eyes of their teachers, crowded close to the river with charcoal pencils in hand. A crowd of fifty, or near enough, but his ‘living swords’ ensured even the most bold of them didn’t approach.
There was something magical about armed, armored and faceless guards staring silently at anyone who came too close. Before that had been a point in their favor, but now it was almost enough to make him fond of them.
He weaved five elemental matrices together, having to strain somewhat where spatial spells were nearly effortless, and the group of students fell silent as power washed over the river. Enormous chunks of ice appeared, swiftly carried further downstream and eventually into the bay itself, and as power kept pouring out of him the chunks grew larger.
Marcus paused when he’d used up a quarter of his reserves, letting the students surge forth to take a closer look, and turned his attention inwards.
As he’d thought, freezing the river over wasn’t doable. Not with the power output he had, though his reserves seemed to have deepened again. He had used the same amount of power in his first proper fifth tier spell, and this was notably less taxing.
Probably something to do with awakening as an Archmage. Regardless, just because spatial magic was easy to weave into spells didn’t mean he stood for being sloppy, so as the students gawked, he refined.
Now was as good a time as any to improve.
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Marcus raised his cup of wine to his lips just as the door opened, having to put it down lest he spill half. Which was mostly because Elly had dragged in an enormous crate, which she promptly put down on his table.
An empty table, but still, rude. He pulled his wine further away as she rolled her eyes. “Drinking at midday again?”
“This is diluted. And I need it after dealing with complaints for half the day. I try to freeze over one small river and half the city goes up in arms.”
Vess, who’d trailed in after Elly at a much more sedated pace, snorted. “I think they were upset by the ice chunks damaging their ships. Sometimes you don’t think before you act, oh fearsome Archmage.”
“Yes, well. I told both of you the plan before it happened, and neither of you were as insightful then.” He huffed, attempting to take a sip of his wine. Elly snatched the cup away, tapping the box. Marcus grunted. “Use your words.”
“Big chest, much delight,” she chirped. “And I don’t even mean that in a weird way, for once. It's a sample from the Academy now that the enchanters there are being trained properly. They warned that it would take weeks before all creations are of this quality, but they don’t foresee any problems keeping up with production. The smiths and armorers actually forging the things are another matter. Good thing you broke up the Redwater Guilds, is all I’m saying.”
Marcus rolled his eyes as she sniffed at his wine, frowning briefly before turning back to the chest. He stood with a sigh. “I know, you’re not used to drinking quality. Show me your magnificent chest, then, and rest assured that I don't think you’re overcompensating for something at all.”
“You’re getting better at being snide,” Vess praised. “Also, Elly darling, that shirt-jacket abomination is doing nothing for your figure. We’ve talked about this.”
Elly turned towards the box as Marcus tilted his head, her tone almost hasty as she pulled out a dagger. “Look, a weapon.”
She thrust it at him, and Marcus turned to look, missing the accusing look Elly sent at Vess. The demon smiled innocently in return, but Marcus didn’t really care about whatever that was about. No, the dagger was far more interesting. Bone, clearly made from the teeth of one of the sea monstrosities.
Strong, and seemingly not too dissimilar from steel. Able to hold an edge and covered in three runic formations. He inspected them, not having to do so for long. Durability, sharpness, stability. Fairly well linked together, and only aimed at making the bone-dagger better at its job.
He put it aside, glancing at where Elly was holding up a shoulder pauldron. Shaped from bone again, though he had no idea which, and again etched with runic formations. He looked inside the box, finding a complete set inside. Helmet, chestpiece, greaves, boots, the whole thing. A curved sword as the main weapon, dagger likely meant to serve as a secondary, and a shield glittering with scales. All covered with basic runes, all meant to enhance basic function. Not legendary, not one of a kind, but then that was rather the point.
Maybe he’d have to look at getting one for himself.
He angled past Elly to get his cup back, finally taking a sip of his wine. Fresh, too, though he’d have to admit Elly’s disappointed sniff had some merit. It was from a new orchard, and while the taste was good—it wasn’t that new, he’d had some yesterday—the smell could be improved.
Marcus finished taking the sip, seeing Elly glance at him. Her eyes widened, realization almost visibly clicking behind her eyes, and her hand moved like a blur. He ducked in sheer instinct, swallowing the wine out of the same.
Elly finished moving, slapping the cup away, and barked the word ‘poison’. Marcus barely heard her, energy shooting through his body like a dozen lightning strikes. Sickly heat spread through his mouth, thoughts slowing as what he blearily recognized as a sedative took hold.
Not just a sedative.
Why that came to mind he didn’t know, but the next moment Vess was forcing his mouth open. Poured something down it, eyes narrowed and expression forcefully blank. “Cleansing magic, now.”
Marcus started shaking his head, confused about why he was doing that, and felt a hint of clarity returning. Elly was gone, silent-Gods knew where, and he reached for his magic. It was like moving through mud, matrices that usually weaved together at the speed of thought crawling at a snail's pace.
Something wet fell on his hand, and he looked down to see another drop of blood falling on it. He flinched when Vess pushed something metal and cold against his chest, her knife having removed a layer of clothing to get to skin. The thing turned colder still, though it didn’t help his state of mind any.
The cleansing matrix finally completed, power rushing through his veins and fighting whatever was in his stomach. It reached his brain a moment later, and he shook his head as clarity returned in full.
Which was also the moment he realized he’d just drunk a, presumably deadly, poison.
Panic tried to assert itself and was pushed down by ruthless cold, a whole different level of clarity returning. Adrenaline spiked, he could feel it through his cleaning matrix, and he twisted the second-tier spell into a fifth tier. Sloppy work, but its effectiveness nearly doubled.
At fifth tier healing magic was able to make a mortally wounded man dance in seconds, so a doubling in effectiveness wasn’t much.
Worse, the poison was winning. Guards were inside now, including a pair of mages who promptly added their own cleansing spells, but power only did so much. The infection was shutting down his kidneys, working up and up and up until it would reach his heart.
Elly returned, carrying a bewildered looking Margaret in her arms. She all but threw the healer at him, who listened to a few clipped words from his guards before putting her hand on his forearm.
Normally he’d be highly uncomfortable at so many people being this close, let alone touching him, but his whole focus was taken up by watching his body die. And he was dying. Whatever this was, it was shutting down his body section by section, clearly resistant to basic healing magic.
Margaret burned it out. Literally. It felt like fire was stitched into his soul, scorching and purifying as it went. He vaguely heard someone screaming, realized only after a long few seconds that it was himself, and a mad bubble of laughter escaped before he could clamp down on it.
Then there was just the pain, his own concentration long since shattered. He thrashed, barely even realizing people were holding him down, and he only vaguely felt another potion being forced down his throat.
He had no idea how long it lasted. Time stopped having meaning, five seconds seeming as long as five years, and he grasped with distant fear at space. At the moon hovering around the earth, the earth hovering around the sun, the sun hovering around a patch of blackness so deep it was absence more than meaning.
And space could do nothing for him. What use was spatial magic against something inside his own body? What use was the ability to teleport away, to create cutting blades so sharp metal was cleaved like butter?
Was this how Archmages died? Poisoned at home, never even questioning the thing that killed them? Trusting a cup of wine, because they’d drunk a thousand before and nothing had ever happened?
The pain ebbed eventually, and then there was nothing but bone-deep exhaustion. He slowly linked a simple healing matrix together, giving his limbs a rush of energy, and by the time he’d stumbled to the window he’d noticed the room was mostly empty.
Just Elly, Vess and Margaret. He glanced at the second, anger burning in his tone and vanishing halfway through. “Find who did this, then rip them out root and stem.”
He turned, and space twisted. Marcus collapsed on the castle roof, thankful he and Elly had apparently forgotten to remove a picnic blanket. Then he just kind of stared at the sky, trying and failing to get his breathing under control.
Elly joined him some seconds later, sitting on the edge in silence. Didn’t speak even as his breathing turned hectic rather than calm, Marcus’ heart racing like it was going to jump out of his chest.
I’m having a panic attack.
Yes, very useful to know. It didn’t actually help any. Nothing really did, and after resisting the urge to teleport into space, probably failing and-or dying in the process, he just tried to keep himself from moving too much.
He only spoke after he was sure his voice would be mostly level, going for humor and failing. At least his heart had stopped racing. “I keep wanting to rub in my teleporting abilities, and I never found a good time for it. Why does that seem so important?”
“Because you saw me infuse a horse with Life energy and couldn't stand the thought of me winning,” Elly offered, a fake grin on her face. It vanished a moment later. “What the fuck. What the fuck. I’ve seen poison before. I’ve seen what it can do. This wasn’t that. What it did to you before Margaret-”
Marcus shrugged as she cut herself off, aborting the gesture halfway through when it proved too tiring. “They—whoever they are—probably assumed Archmages needed something special. Lucky me. Considering Vess is paranoid and put systems in place to have all my food tested, it wasn’t an angry mage with a grudge. This took planning. Skill and money. I had a panic attack.”
“I know,” she replied, offering him a humorless grimace. “I’ve had several. Soldiers get those, and I guess Archmages count, just this once.”
“I don’t like having a panic attack.”
She snorted at his tone. “No, I imagine you don’t. I don’t think any less of you for it, if that’s any concern.”
He touched his chest, feeling an ice-cold patch of skin slowly warming, and shuddered as another flash of heat rushed through his veins. Margaret's magic slowly running out of power, but hunting for any last trace of the poison. “I could feel it killing me. See it shut down my organs. I- Nothing I know could have stopped it. No spell or skill or potion or-”
Elly's hand clasped his own, and he gripped it hard enough most people would have winced in pain. But Elly was made from sterner stuff, and when she spoke her tone wasn’t filled with pity. He didn’t know what he’d have done if it had been.
“So you fix that,” she said. “You learn whatever spell Margaret used to burn it out of you, and you master it. You lived, and that means you can learn. Adapt. Because you’re not allowed to die, you hear me? Not in battle, and certainly not to some cowardly poisoner that we’re going to drown in hellfire.”
Marcus sighed deeply, glancing at her briefly before looking back up at the sky. “Sounds good. And not to be mean, but I feel like it's your turn to be very nearly assassinated. So far we’re two for zero in your favor.”
“That’s kind of mean.”
He snorted, closing his eyes as exhaustion returned twofold. “I’m going to take a nap now. Don’t carry me away while I sleep.”
“I’ll be here.” He could all but hear her smirk. “And I wouldn't dream of it.”
Marcus tried to glare at the pun, but it felt like a titanic effort to even raise his head. Instead he fell asleep, the more energy efficient choice, and for the first time in a long time he didn’t mind dreaming of the vast nothingness between the stars.
