Series Introduction

In the Kingdom of Arithrakus, the powerful Order of Magical Studies and Applications serves as the Queen's college of mages. Through their extensive archives of scholarly research and practical experience, the Order effectively controls the study and practice of magic across the entire kingdom. Would-be students apply at an early age for training, and any rogue practitioners who are powerful enough (and brave enough) to get noticed are quickly brought into the fold.

Over the years, the Order has gathered a library of stories from their vast network of mages. Some are first-hand accounts. Some are quite dull, while others are more fantastical. Some have been dismissed as the product of a feverish imagination or a brain damaged by years of taxation from intense magical effort. Regardless, the Queen frowns on these stories being made available to the public. Occasionally, however, one escapes and winds up in the hands of an unscrupulous publisher...

This is one of those stories.

Chapter 1

"Why do you have to take this trip at all?" asked Celia.

"Headmother Larissa has acquired the notion that the Order 'needs to be more visible in the outlying villages'," said Isobel, doing a passable imitation of the chief mage. "I have been assigned to Harburg for several years now, and it is time for another visit. I will only be gone for a few weeks."

"A few weeks?!"

"Yes, more or less. It depends on what sort of aid the villagers need, and how many disagreements they have been saving up for my visit. However, one thing seems to be consistent: Harburg is on the edge of the Red Forest, and the village must defend itself from the occasional goblin raid. I am sometimes called upon to negotiate with them."

"That sounds awfully dangerous, going all the way out to the Red Forest. Aren't you worried?"

"Do you think I am incapable of defending myself against a few roadside bandits? Or a party of goblin skirmishers?"

"No, Sister," said Celia, embarrassed. "Of course not."

"This will not be my first brush with this particular goblin tribe, and I happen to know that they respond quite well to a certain brand of diplomacy." Isobel waved her hand, throwing sparks into the air.

Celia snorted. "Yes, I'm familiar with your preferred mode of 'diplomacy'. You're always less stressed out after you return from Harburg, and I don't think it's because you enjoy traveling on horseback that much."

"Traveling on horseback is perfectly pleasant."

"Not that pleasant. You're not as inscrutable as you think, Sister."

Isobel glared at Celia in some annoyance. "I presume that is because you have been applying yourself to your lessons. Otherwise, it would seem that I have been slipping to an unacceptable degree."

"I promise I won't tell your peers while you're away."

"See that you don't."

Together, teacher and student walked to the Omnipresence Room, a consecrated space that made it easier to travel via teleportation to various important places around the city.

"Your concern is commendable but misplaced, Celia. The Queen insists on sending an armed escort with us when we make these visitations, and I believe that I have been assigned a 'promising young member' of her Guard. In fact, if you take proper care of the laboratory while I'm gone, perhaps I will introduce you to him. I believe you could use some stress relief, yourself."

"Sister!" Celia yelled, blushing.

"No? As you wish," Isobel said flatly, taking her travel case from her student's hand. She knew Celia was perfectly capable of finding her own outlets, but either she was very bad at recognizing when she ought to, or very good at hiding it when she did.

Isobel waved her hand over the call stone in the center of the room, causing it to glow brightly with energy. "Do be careful when you're tending to the plants, mm? I'd hate to come back to find the workshop overrun. Again." The bag disappeared, quickly followed by its owner.

Across town, the mage and her luggage appeared in an antechamber of the barracks of the Queen's Guard. Two paladins in armor came to attention at the doorway.

"Name and purpose," one of them said as the glow of the call stone began to fade from view.

"Sister Isobel of the Order. I come to collect my escort on the Headmother's business; we depart for Harburg Village immediately."

"Very good, Sister. I believe Brother Samuel is finishing up his preparations as we speak. The Queen's Guard welcomes you," he said with a bow.

Isobel bowed in response, but while the Guards had long mastered the ability to look graceful even in full armor, Isobel's stiff attempt reflected her resentment of the formality and pomp that went along with dealing with nobility. Nevertheless, one of the paladins led her through the barracks to a small bunk room where a young man in light armor was attempting to don a brightly-colored tunic in the Guard's colors, but had managed to get it on the wrong way around.

Isobel's escort coughed. "Brother Samuel," he said roughly, causing the younger man to lose his balance and nearly fall over. He quickly stood upright and faced Isobel.

"Oh! Hello! I'm Brother Samuel of the Guard. Please, pardon my appearance."

"Of course, Brother. I am Sister Isobel of the Order."

"Ah, yes," Samuel said, "we've met."

"Have we?"

"I wouldn't expect you to remember, Sister." The other Guard coughed again. "But perhaps we can discuss that once we're underway?"

"Yes, surely. I am somewhat impatient to begin our trip."

"Of course. I'll be ready to depart momentarily," Samuel said, pulling his arms into his tunic in an attempt to don it correctly.

"Very good. Thank you, Brother, I believe we'll manage from here," said Isobel, dismissing the other Guard. He bowed, turned, and walked away.

Samuel struggled through the last of his preparations, but by the time he'd gathered their belongings and brought them to the stables to acquire some horses for the journey, he'd regained much of the sense of calm competence that Isobel had come to expect from paladins of the Guard. Samuel dressed the horses for travel and loaded the saddlebags with their supplies, and without further ado the two set out for Harburg.

The large capital city shortly gave way to the surrounding suburbs, well-established but outside the protection of the Queen's castle and city walls. They rode along busy trade routes paved in cobblestone, sharing the way with plenty of other travelers in both directions. Samuel did his best to keep up the conversation as they rode, but Isobel's responses tended to be concise and factual. At one point, he even broke into song to pass the time.

"I do not recognize that song," Isobel said once he'd finished.

"My mother sang it to me," he replied. "I have no idea where she learned it."

They rode on for another moment before Samuel tried again to raise the conversation.

"My apologies for my nervousness earlier. It is not every day that we have the honor of escorting a Sister of the Order, never mind one of your stature."

"You flatter me."

"Hardly. Your reputation precedes you, at least among the Guard."

"I see. Do you always inquire after the subjects of your escort duty?"

"It would be foolish of me not to, wouldn't you say?"

"I can't say I've given it much thought."

"Neither do most of the Guards," Samuel answered with a wry laugh. "Truth be told, my commanding officer is not particularly fond of the collaboration between our houses. When this trip came up there were few who were willing to perform the duty. You gave your last escort quite a fright, you know."

"I can hardly be blamed for his lack of preparation."

"May I ask what happened?"

"Do you not already know?"

"Brother Aaron was uninterested in answering my questions."

"Perhaps that is for the best. I would not wish to dispel your belief that this assignment is an 'honor'."

"I was happy to volunteer. Doing my duty to the Queen is always an honor."

"That is precisely what I would expect a paladin to say."

Samuel smiled. "Our journey is just beginning, Sister. I may yet find a way to surprise you before it ends."

"You already have."

"Have I?"

"I did not expect to be escorted by a Guard with such a lovely singing voice."

"Thank you, Sister."

"Call me Isobel."

"As you wish, Isobel."

As the sun began to set on their first day of travel, they found a traveler's inn that seemed welcoming. With the prospect of a few nights of wilderness camping ahead of them before they reached Harburg, the scent of hot dinner and fresh ale was plenty enough to entice them inside. The innkeeper was quite accommodating, if a little too deferential, and once they'd made arrangements for private rooms for the night, he provided dinner in the form of a hearty stew and plenty of bread to go along with it.

The common room began to fill up as they ate, and it got noisier and more rowdy as the evening progressed. There was a loud, animated conversation happening at the bar between two patrons, and the longer it went on, the more times one of them would turn to look at where Samuel and Isobel were sitting. Isobel paid it little attention, but Samuel caught the patron's eyes and held his stare for a long time.

"Do you often attract this much attention in public places?" said Samuel quietly.

"Don't you?"

"Not like this. Most people act with respect around a member of the Guard."

"Whereas many people act with fear around members of the Order."

"I was starting to notice that. I don't like the look of that fellow by the bar."

"Apart from his staring, he seems unlikely to upset our—"

The man at the bar suddenly slammed down his mug of beer, turned towards Samuel and Isobel, and took a step towards them. The person sitting next to him grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him back, but he turned and threw a punch, knocking the other man to the floor. Several more people jumped in, and a brawl quickly ensued.

Isobel turned to Samuel, but he was already up out of his seat and wading into the fray. The brawl stopped almost as quickly as it started, Samuel wrestling the man to the ground and subduing him with an arm lock.

"Settle down, now," he said. "All of you just take a step back." Most of the folks who had joined the fight did so, dropping their guard. The man who started the whole thing continued to struggle, spitting and sputtering under Samuel.

"I will not!" he yelled. "Not until you get that witch out of here!"

A blinding flash of red light suddenly engulfed him, and when it cleared there was a burlap sack over his head and his yelling had been reduced to a series of muffled grunts. The rest of the room fell completely silent and several pairs of eyes turned to Isobel, who had risen from her chair and had a scowl on her face.

"Do. Not. Address a member of the Order that way," she said. "We are 'mages'. 'Wizards', if you must. Treat us with respect, and you have no reason to fear us."

Samuel, like the rest of the room, stared at Isobel for a moment, but then he dragged the man to his feet and started to force-walk him to the door. "Make way," he said, pushing past a few patrons, "and somebody get the door!" His movement broke the tension, and someone finally opened the door for him so he could throw the man outside. When he turned back to the room, most people were watching him instead of Isobel.

"As you were," he said. "He'll be fine in a few minutes, so long as no one lets him back in here."

Everyone got out of Samuel's way as he walked back over to where Isobel was sitting, calmly sipping her wine.

"That was quite the display," he said quietly. "Is that what happens when a wizard loses their temper?"

"If you think that is the worst that I am capable of when provoked, your imagination is not nearly as good as I was beginning to think it is."

"Well, I can't say that guy didn't deserve it, but if you're wondering why people fear you when you travel, I have a few thoughts."

"I'm sure your Captain will be happy to catalog them for you when you return. In the meanwhile, no one in this tavern will ever use that word in front of a mage of the Order again."

"Not where you can hear it, at least."

The innkeeper came over to them, wiping a nervous sweat from his brow. "I'm so sorry that happened," he said. "He won't be allowed to drink in here any more if he's going to cause trouble like that. Please, let me make it up to you."

"Nothing of the sort," said Samuel. "You've caused us no offense. If anything it seems that we're the ones whose presence has brought you trouble this evening. In fact, Sister, I believe it may be time for us to retire and leave this fellow to his customers."

Isobel glanced around the room. Most of the patrons had sat down and gone back to their drinks. A low murmur of conversation had begun to fill the room again, but it was tense and awkward. There was wisdom in her escort's suggestion. And only half a mug of wine in front of her.

"I suppose you are correct, Brother. May I take this with me?" she said, turning to the innkeeper.

"Of course! Please do. In fact, let me top it off for you before you go."

Chapter 2

The following day passed uneventfully, and it wasn't until the third day of travel that they broke completely free from the steady stream of travelers, trade, and traffic in the capital region. Dense towns gave way to sparser villages, roads became dirt trails that only sometimes had markings, and large swaths of farmland became fields of tall grass. They saw fewer and fewer people as they traveled, and occasionally found themselves picking their way through a forest.

Samuel's eyes flicked back and forth as they rode, wary of the target they presented. Two travelers on horseback and one not obviously armed weren't the juiciest target for banditry, especially when traveling under the Guard's colors, but he was alert all the same.

"Is this your first journey to the outlying villages?" Isobel asked.

"No, I've been out this way several times."

"As part of your training?"

Samuel chuckled. "I've been in the Guard for six years, Sister. Training missions are a distant memory at this point."

"Six years?"

"And the battle scars to prove it, if you'd care to examine them."

"Your word is sufficient for now. I simply meant that you hardly look old enough to have been in the Guard for that long."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You may do so."

"Have you spent much time on horseback, Sis— uh, Isobel? You ride quite well."

"Enough," Isobel replied. "There are more pleasant ways to travel, but for journeys such as this I have not yet found any that are more convenient."

"No? I'm surprised, with your expertise."

"How do you mean?"

"Surely there must be some magical means of getting from one place to another that would be more efficient. Why bother with the horses at all?"

"Teleportation magic is quite expensive, Samuel, and even the most experienced mages have their limits. Transporting myself across the city with the assistance of charged call stones is a fairly simple matter. Even moving a small, inanimate object over a somewhat longer distance can be done with some practice. But sending two of us to a remote village several days' travel away with no anchor is only theoretically possible."

"Has anyone ever tried?"

"We have heard stories of those who have attempted similar feats," she said. "But none of them end well, either for the mage or for the person being teleported."

"I see," Samuel said, twisting his face. "That sounds... unpleasant."

"Just so," said Isobel.

They spent their last night of travel sleeping around a camp fire in the middle of nowhere. Samuel proved himself to be an excellent wilderness cook, producing an evening meal consisting of food they'd carried with them supplemented with a bit of foraging. Isobel provided a sanctuary spell to ward off anyone or anything that came across their camp in the middle of the night, and Samuel picked out another song to sing them off to sleep.

In the morning, Samuel woke even more refreshed than he had been after sleeping in a tavern bed. Isobel had clearly either woken before him or not slept the night before, as he found her sitting cross-legged and floating about a foot above the ground, eyes closed and deep in meditation. Not wanting to disturb her, he bustled about the campsite, dousing the last of the embers and repacking their gear.

Isobel eventually came back down to earth, packing up her own bedroll and joining Samuel in preparing the horses. "We should make Harburg later today," she said.

"That's good news. Although I'm starting to think I've been spending too much time in the barracks lately. I forgot how nice sleeping outside can be."

"I'll be sure to request you as an escort next time I visit Harburg in the winter," she said. Samuel couldn't remember Isobel cracking a joke before, and he thought he could just make out the edges of a grin on the mage's face.

As the afternoon sun beat down on them, plumes of smoke rose gently into the sky. They crested the next hill, and suddenly a small town was clearly visible in the middle distance.

"Is that Harburg?" said Samuel. "I thought you said this was a sleepy farming village."

"It was, last time I saw it."

"How long ago was that?"

"Last year, in the springtime."

"They look like they're preparing for war, not a harvest." Wooden stockades were being erected all around the town, with towers on each corner. Wagon trains bringing freshly-cut trees rolled into town regularly.

As they rode up to the edge of town, they were stopped by two commoners with comically long spears that they could barely hold steady.

"Halt! I–in the name of Lord Erick," one of them stuttered. "What's your business in Harburg?"

"We are emissaries of the Queen, friends," said Samuel gently. "Do you not recognize the colors of her Guard?"

The guard stood up straight in surprise, and the other's eyes opened wide. "Are you the witch?" he said, looking at Isobel.

"I am n—" Isobel began sharply, until Samuel coughed. He looked at her pointedly, and she began again. "I am," she said simply. "My name is Isobel."

The guard turned and ran off towards the village, shouting "she's here!" to no one in particular.

Samuel looked down at the remaining villager. He looked tired and hungry. His clothes fit poorly; the shambles of armor he was ostensibly wearing fit even worse.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Gerald, sir."

"Give me your hand, Gerald." Samuel leaned down to him, and as they clasped hands, a soft orange glow grew around them. "May your hand be steady and your watch vigilant."

Gerald's eyes lit up, suddenly full of energy. "Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," Samuel said. He returned to a riding posture and clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward.

"The Queen's Blessing? That was nice of you," Isobel said, drawing her horse alongside his.

"Even the Guard has a few tricks up our sleeve," he smiled. "What good is being a paladin if you can't help people out now and again?"

"What, indeed."

They rode the rest of the way into town together. A few heads lifted as they passed through the construction, and one man waved wearily, but quickly set back to work.

"Something is not right," Samuel said as they passed the first few houses, all seemingly empty. "You said there were a few hundred people here, but we haven't seen a single person who isn't either working on the walls, harvesting lumber, or guarding the place. Where are the children? Where are the merchants? The fields are empty, and even the tavern looks closed."

"Perhaps we will find out," Isobel said.

They arrived at the center of the village where a larger building loomed over the small cottages and barns that otherwise made up the town. A coat of arms neither of them had seen before, featuring a red background and a crooked blue line across the middle, hung over the door. The ornamentation on the outside of the building was gaudy and seemed out of place. As they dismounted, a burly man with short blond hair emerged, followed by the guard that had met them outside the town. He greeted them with a hearty laugh.

"My friends! In the name of the Five Virtues, I welcome you to Harburg. I am Lord Erick, the mayor of this disgusting little village. Please, come inside. Take their horses, Andrew."

"Yessir," the guard mumbled.

"It's always exciting to have visitors from court," Erick said, leading them into the building. "I hope your stay will be swift and pleasant. I'm sure you have much more important business to attend to back home."

"The Order is happy to be of assistance," Isobel said distractedly, looking about the large, open room. As much as the house's exterior felt wrong in the small village, the interior was even worse; there was no furniture to speak of except for an ornate chair atop a dais on the far side of the room. A few oversized tapestries hung on the walls; one featured Lord Erick himself, along with images of his ancestors and the famous battles in which they fought. Another appeared to be a rather unflattering portrait of the Queen.

"Now then, Sister..." He paused expectantly, waving his hand in their direction.

"I am Isobel, of the Order of Magical Studies and Applications."

"And I am Samuel, a paladin of the Queen's Guard."

"Yes, yes, very good. Now, you've been here before, haven't you?" Erick said, leading them across the room.

"That's correct."

"And when you visit us the peasants bring you their petty problems, yes?"

"Anything they haven't found another way to address."

"Well, I can assure you that won't be a concern, no, no." He heaved himself up onto the platform and fell heavily into the chair. "You see, they have me now. The peasants bring me their problems, and I take care of them."

"I see. So you have no need of my help."

"Quite right; none at all. No offense to the Order, of course. We're always happy to receive representatives of the Queen. And!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands, "It simply won't do to have you here without a proper feast to celebrate the occasion! I'll inform my cooks, yes. We'll toast to your health tonight, you can spend a nice quiet night out here in the country, and then head back in the morning. I'll have Reg open the tavern for you; you'll have the place to yourself, of course."

"Very generous of you, Lord Erick."

"Oh, it's nothing, I assure you. The town loves a good feast! Andrew!"

"Sir," the guard answered, appearing at the front door.

"Take these two over to the tavern. And if it's not open, go find Reg and tell him to unlock the place immediately, or he'll answer to me for it. Go, friends, and relax. We'll talk more tonight."

Isobel began to speak, but Samuel cut her off. "It is a pleasure to make your Lordship's acquaintance," he said, bowing slightly. "We look forward to receiving your entertainment later this evening." Samuel turned to leave, and after a moment of indecision, Isobel followed him out.

Andrew led them wordlessly down the dirt road towards the tavern. The building was cold and dark, as it had been when they passed it on the way in. Andrew tried the door, but turned to Samuel and Isobel with a fearful look.

"Begging your pardon, sir, ma'am, but—"

"It's locked, is it?" said Samuel. Isobel stepped past them and touched the door handle, whispering to herself.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, I've got to—"

"It seems to be open for me," Isobel said, pulling the door open.

Samuel couldn't help his grin. "Go and find the innkeeper, but don't hurry. We'll be fine here."

"Thank you sir."

Andrew dashed off, and Isobel and Samuel went inside. It was a simple matter to light a few candles and throw some wood into the fireplace. The room immediately took on a homey, comfortable glow with only a few touches of light.

"I bet this room has some stories," Samuel said. "It seems like a lively place, once it warms up."

"Indeed," said Isobel. "I have found the villagers quite friendly in the past. A stark contrast to what we've seen here today."

"I get the sense that Lord Erick has some different priorities than the previous governor. Who did he replace?"

"A priest of Talor named Paul. He was not the most accomplished leader, but a very sympathetic man who cared about the village."

"Ah, so that building used to be the village chapel."

"Yes, though I barely recognized it. Erick has taken down all of the Talorian trappings, and I suspect he has sold them off, possibly to enhance his own wealth. The new decorations are hideous."

"It is the ugliest rendition of the Queen I have ever seen, and I promise you that is a lengthy list."

Isobel laughed once, a stilted, awkward sound unlike any laugh Samuel had heard. "I have no doubt."

"Where do you suppose this Erick came from?"

"That I do not know. Nor do I know what became of Paul."

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