Torn books and broken pieces of furniture crunched underfoot as Norman walked through the mansion that previously belonged to Bertrand. His people had ransacked the house, leaving no stone unturned as they looked for more evidence as well as any more of these hidden tunnels.
Everyone seemed to have overlooked the possibility of an actual underground organization. Something which Grobert, the wraiths, and his guard were taking rather personally as they scoured the rudimentary sewers below Ashvale after clearing Bertrand’s mansion. Norman didn’t blame anyone for this oversight, he had overlooked the possibility as well and the tunnels had been obscured through enchantments and placed well out of sight.
Reports were already filtering in about smuggling tunnels being located and arrests being made. Having his intuition about Bertrand proven correct should have made Norman happy, but it didn’t
The extent of Bertrand’s operation pissed him off. To think that so many of his people were willing to lie, cheat, steal, and kill in Ashvale made him sick. Had he not done his utmost to give everyone a comfortable unlife?
The other reason he was not happy sat on a table filled with other evidence and illicit goods the investigators had found. It wasn’t gold or the numerous contracts that were recovered, though there was plenty of that. Nope, the source of his anger was a simple dull brown orb.
Somewhere, somehow, somebody had gotten ahold of the spell to create a soul trap. It shouldn’t have been possible. He hadn’t shared that spell with anyone. And the only soul traps, he created, were restricted to him, Eugene, and Grobert. And those were all accounted for.
Norman picked up the simple-looking orb, feeling the familiar tingling sensation as it linked to him. That was enough to tell him this was not an orb of his design. All of his were designed specifically to prevent him from linking to them by accident or treachery. He pulled on his mind to spin up his Transfer spell, only he twisted one of the symbols.
The spell popped into existence in the air in front of him and Norman placed the orb inside. Instead of carving a spell form into an item like how he normally used the spell, the spell dissolved the orb, leaving behind what was inside. As soon as this process began, he felt his connection to the trap fall away and snap back to his resurrection spell that covered Ashvale.
Norman had been aware of this use of the Transfer spell for some time, yet he had never had an opportunity or reason to use it. Until today.
After the components of the orb dissolved away, Norman was left with the actual spell that made up the device. A rather crude one at that, he quickly noted. As he slowly walked around the floating spell, he could see extra symbols that were unneeded or extraneous as well as symbols not aligned properly for optimal output.
Despite all that, he couldn’t deny that the spell functioned. He let out a slight sigh of relief on seeing this. It meant he didn’t have a traitor in his inner council. Getting betrayed was something he didn’t want to contemplate but he had been betrayed enough times that it was the first thing that jumped to the forefront of his mind in situations like this.
If the soul trap wasn’t one of his devices, that left very little doubt as to where it originated from. At least removing the competing necromancers was something he could thank Vincent for. He swiped his hand through the magical construct, causing it to evaporate before he walked into the living room where another spell array had been constructed.
Bertrand flinched away from the barrier as Norman strode into the room.
“Everyone else, out!”
The few Death Knights guarding the prisoner saluted before quickly exiting the room and closing the door behind them.
“Is this where our magnanimous leader tortures me for information?” Bertrand said snidely.
Norman ignored the man’s blatant attempt to put on a brave face. “You have two choices here. You can tell me who you were collaborating with, or I can drag the answers out of you.”
The man clapped and laughed. “There it is, the tyrant has finally shown himself. You can pretend all you want that you are this benevolent man with your people's best interests in mind. But as soon as you encounter a problem, you resort to this.” The man swiped his hand across the magical barrier. “The fact is, you only care about yourself and those close to you. We are much more alike than you wish to admit.”
Norman once again ignored the man’s provocations. “Who do you work for?”
The man made a zipping motion with his fingers and smiled.
“Fine. We will do this the hard way then.”
After hours of torturing the man’s soul, Norman strode out of the room, still angry. Bertrand had eventually given up all of his contacts but none of them turned out to be Donovan, or his son Vincent. The man had no connection to the Council at all it seemed. Norman had finally thought he had something concrete to pin on Donovan but it turned out to be a dead end. Bertrand was just some opportunist who knew how to game the system.
As to where he got the soul trap, apparently they were being sold on the black market in Northern California. He sent a few Wraiths to verify that, although, he suspected it was true. It seemed exactly like something Donovan would do to obscure the origin of the magical devices.
That left only the portal room and the illegal enchantments that blocked even Grobert from sensing the chamber as a possible link to Donovan. Bertrand didn’t have an answer for how those got there. Only that a note was waiting on his desk one day letting him know how to access them.
Norman was tempted to activate the device to find out who was on the other end, but doing so would alert those people that their puppet had been captured. And he knew he wouldn’t get who he was hoping for anyway. The Council Leader wouldn’t act personally unless he knew his plan had succeeded. Assuming he was even involved. He needed to find a way to bait Donovan out.
It was infuriating to know who was behind this, yet not having a shred of evidence to prove it. Norman couldn’t just accuse the Council Leader of wrongdoing, he knew jumping the gun on this would have people questioning his leadership. And any misstep could cost him allies.
He would love nothing more than to go into California and remove Donovan and the Council once and for all, yet he was forced to play this stupid game. And Donovan knew it. Probably even reveled in that fact.
As his anger started to build again, he took a deep breath and let it out. Norman couldn’t let that man get to him. He would wait, and he would plan. One day, just like Bertrand, the man named Donovan Kane would slip up or make a mistake. Once Norman had proof of his interference, then he could act.
In the meantime, he had a trap to set. He stepped into the portal chamber and was greeted by Grobert and Eugene.
“Anything to report?”
Grobert shook his head. “I can’t tell where the portal leads unless it's powered up. And destroying it will alert the other side.”
“So we have a Trojan Horse in our backyard?” Eugene asked with a frown.
“Seems like it.”
“Fine,” Norman cut in, not wanting to listen to another argument between the pair right now. “Leave it for now. I will seal the room with magic and leave a gift for anyone dumb enough to come through.”
“I would still like to have a few guards placed inside the tunnel,” Eugene added.
“Alright, do it.”
Eugene nodded and walked out of the room. The large man had to shimmy sideways through the small tunnel.
“It seems Donovan is escalating his tactics,” Grobert commented after Eugene had left.
Norman simply nodded as he looked at the strange metallic arch against the far wall. “We need proof though. Without that, the Council can just say we attacked them without provocation. For now, we play nice. Especially with the increasing frequency of collapses.”
“For once, I agree. Splitting our focus now could be dangerous.”
“Speaking of, have we heard anything from Admiral Barnes? I thought we would have heard something from him yesterday.”
“Reports came back from the border. It appears the Alacala lands have been pushed back to make way for a sea. Which broke the teleporter network to our south.”
That wasn’t good news. Normenia relied heavily on the trade between the two lands. “How long until the network is operational again?”
“A few days,” Grobert replied. “I can’t make a chain across the water so I have to make one around it.”
Norman just nodded. What else could he do?
Grobert was the only person capable of making the teleporters. He knew his wife and the others were researching the problem along with the gron magitech but it was slow going. Unlike the soul trap, he had broken apart earlier, the gron tech was not based on magical circles. And Grobert wasn’t willing to share his insights due to his promise.
That was fine, he had faith the enchanters would figure it out eventually.
“Okay. How soon until you can get started?”
“I would have started a few hours ago but I was waiting for you.”
Norman accepted the chastisement in stride. “Sorry.”
The man gripped Norman’s arm firmly, making him glance down at him. “Don’t let them change who you are. And don’t let their lies twist your convictions either.”
“I- I won’t.”
Grobert held Norman’s gaze for a moment until he was sure his words had sunk in. Then he gave a single nod before vanishing.
Norman let out a shuttering breath. He hadn’t realized how much Bertrand’s barbed words had affected him until now, the doubt that had crept into his mind. It was an insidious thing that was causing him to second-guess himself.
He tried his best to be a good leader. To not fall into the trap of becoming a tyrant. It was just so much easier to do what he wanted instead of trying to do what was right. But he also knew being good for the sake of being good was equally a trap. One where he let outside forces walk all over him because he feared what people might think. It was a thin line he had to walk to ensure Normenia was strong, and his people thrived.
He had to remember, he did this not just for him, but for all of Normenia. The burden was his to carry because he had chosen to do so and the people trusted him to do what was right. Even if what was right was not always easy.
Grobert's words echoed in his mind, calming him. Once the anger and doubt faded away, Norman opened his eyes again. “One step at a time, one day at a time,” he whispered into the empty room.
With his mind once more settled, he spun up a complex spell that covered the room in pale threads of light that soon faded from view.
This new Mana-Binding spell would trigger if anyone entered the room, sticking to them and violently collapsing any spell they tried to form. It would also cling to them like a spiderweb, slowing and eventually halting all movement.
The spell’s fragile nature made it slow to cast and not very practical for combat. But it was perfect for setting traps in an enclosed space. This spell came into existence when he attempted to see how far he could push ethereal binding.
The strange targeting symbol was far more versatile than he originally gave it credit for.
He walked out of the room, a slight heat haze the only thing that gave away the spell’s location. And if you weren’t looking closely, you could easily miss it.
The next spell he cast covered the tunnel in a strange barrier that looked like shifting smoked glass. As the smokey panes slid against each other, they made slight cracking sounds that set your nerves on end.
This was Norman’s modified Wall of Fog. It allowed his Death Knights and a few other select individuals to pass through unharmed. Anyone else attempting to pass through the barrier would find themselves in a world of pain as it sheared apart their body and twisted their soul.
The spell started to flicker and fade out and Norman hurried to pull out a black gem that he fixed to the floor inside the barrier. Once the gem was in place, the barrier settled again.
This was one mana-hungry spell and normally could not last more than a few minutes on its own power. It was a good thing Norman had plenty of catalysts to keep it active. The original version of the spell lasted longer but wasn’t as strong. Norman preferred this version since it didn’t simply kill the target, it also affected the soul. This way if the person that touched the wall managed to escape, they would be left deformed even if they were resurrected.
Norman had tried adding the soul trap aspect to his other spells but quickly learned that as soon as the spell ended, the ability for it to hold the soul ended as well. The only way to hold a soul after that was to have a permanent spell like his phylactery or soul traps.
He reached into his pocket and handed the Death Knight a small pouch filled with the cough drop-sized gems of condensed mana. “Each of these should last around an hour. Just push a new one into the barrier when it starts to flicker.”
The knight accepted the bag with a nod and salute.
The catalysts inside the bag would last around two days. By then he hoped to have an enchanted barrier in place. While creating the catalysts wasn’t hard, it did take time.
Torn books and broken pieces of furniture crunched underfoot as Norman walked through the mansion that previously belonged to Bertrand. His people had ransacked the house, leaving no stone unturned as they looked for more evidence as well as any more of these hidden tunnels.
Everyone seemed to have overlooked the possibility of an actual underground organization. Something which Grobert, the wraiths, and his guard were taking rather personally as they scoured the rudimentary sewers below Ashvale after clearing Bertrand’s mansion. Norman didn’t blame anyone for this oversight, he had overlooked the possibility as well and the tunnels had been obscured through enchantments and placed well out of sight.
Reports were already filtering in about smuggling tunnels being located and arrests being made. Having his intuition about Bertrand proven correct should have made Norman happy, but it didn’t
The extent of Bertrand’s operation pissed him off. To think that so many of his people were willing to lie, cheat, steal, and kill in Ashvale made him sick. Had he not done his utmost to give everyone a comfortable unlife?
The other reason he was not happy sat on a table filled with other evidence and illicit goods the investigators had found. It wasn’t gold or the numerous contracts that were recovered, though there was plenty of that. Nope, the source of his anger was a simple dull brown orb.
Somewhere, somehow, somebody had gotten ahold of the spell to create a soul trap. It shouldn’t have been possible. He hadn’t shared that spell with anyone. And the only soul traps, he created, were restricted to him, Eugene, and Grobert. And those were all accounted for.
Norman picked up the simple-looking orb, feeling the familiar tingling sensation as it linked to him. That was enough to tell him this was not an orb of his design. All of his were designed specifically to prevent him from linking to them by accident or treachery. He pulled on his mind to spin up his Transfer spell, only he twisted one of the symbols.
The spell popped into existence in the air in front of him and Norman placed the orb inside. Instead of carving a spell form into an item like how he normally used the spell, the spell dissolved the orb, leaving behind what was inside. As soon as this process began, he felt his connection to the trap fall away and snap back to his resurrection spell that covered Ashvale.
Norman had been aware of this use of the Transfer spell for some time, yet he had never had an opportunity or reason to use it. Until today.
After the components of the orb dissolved away, Norman was left with the actual spell that made up the device. A rather crude one at that, he quickly noted. As he slowly walked around the floating spell, he could see extra symbols that were unneeded or extraneous as well as symbols not aligned properly for optimal output.
Despite all that, he couldn’t deny that the spell functioned. He let out a slight sigh of relief on seeing this. It meant he didn’t have a traitor in his inner council. Getting betrayed was something he didn’t want to contemplate but he had been betrayed enough times that it was the first thing that jumped to the forefront of his mind in situations like this.
If the soul trap wasn’t one of his devices, that left very little doubt as to where it originated from. At least removing the competing necromancers was something he could thank Vincent for. He swiped his hand through the magical construct, causing it to evaporate before he walked into the living room where another spell array had been constructed.
Bertrand flinched away from the barrier as Norman strode into the room.
“Everyone else, out!”
The few Death Knights guarding the prisoner saluted before quickly exiting the room and closing the door behind them.
“Is this where our magnanimous leader tortures me for information?” Bertrand said snidely.
Norman ignored the man’s blatant attempt to put on a brave face. “You have two choices here. You can tell me who you were collaborating with, or I can drag the answers out of you.”
The man clapped and laughed. “There it is, the tyrant has finally shown himself. You can pretend all you want that you are this benevolent man with your people's best interests in mind. But as soon as you encounter a problem, you resort to this.” The man swiped his hand across the magical barrier. “The fact is, you only care about yourself and those close to you. We are much more alike than you wish to admit.”
Norman once again ignored the man’s provocations. “Who do you work for?”
The man made a zipping motion with his fingers and smiled.
“Fine. We will do this the hard way then.”
After hours of torturing the man’s soul, Norman strode out of the room, still angry. Bertrand had eventually given up all of his contacts but none of them turned out to be Donovan, or his son Vincent. The man had no connection to the Council at all it seemed. Norman had finally thought he had something concrete to pin on Donovan but it turned out to be a dead end. Bertrand was just some opportunist who knew how to game the system.
As to where he got the soul trap, apparently they were being sold on the black market in Northern California. He sent a few Wraiths to verify that, although, he suspected it was true. It seemed exactly like something Donovan would do to obscure the origin of the magical devices.
That left only the portal room and the illegal enchantments that blocked even Grobert from sensing the chamber as a possible link to Donovan. Bertrand didn’t have an answer for how those got there. Only that a note was waiting on his desk one day letting him know how to access them.
Norman was tempted to activate the device to find out who was on the other end, but doing so would alert those people that their puppet had been captured. And he knew he wouldn’t get who he was hoping for anyway. The Council Leader wouldn’t act personally unless he knew his plan had succeeded. Assuming he was even involved. He needed to find a way to bait Donovan out.
It was infuriating to know who was behind this, yet not having a shred of evidence to prove it. Norman couldn’t just accuse the Council Leader of wrongdoing, he knew jumping the gun on this would have people questioning his leadership. And any misstep could cost him allies.
He would love nothing more than to go into California and remove Donovan and the Council once and for all, yet he was forced to play this stupid game. And Donovan knew it. Probably even reveled in that fact.
As his anger started to build again, he took a deep breath and let it out. Norman couldn’t let that man get to him. He would wait, and he would plan. One day, just like Bertrand, the man named Donovan Kane would slip up or make a mistake. Once Norman had proof of his interference, then he could act.
In the meantime, he had a trap to set. He stepped into the portal chamber and was greeted by Grobert and Eugene.
“Anything to report?”
Grobert shook his head. “I can’t tell where the portal leads unless it's powered up. And destroying it will alert the other side.”
“So we have a Trojan Horse in our backyard?” Eugene asked with a frown.
“Seems like it.”
“Fine,” Norman cut in, not wanting to listen to another argument between the pair right now. “Leave it for now. I will seal the room with magic and leave a gift for anyone dumb enough to come through.”
“I would still like to have a few guards placed inside the tunnel,” Eugene added.
“Alright, do it.”
Eugene nodded and walked out of the room. The large man had to shimmy sideways through the small tunnel.
“It seems Donovan is escalating his tactics,” Grobert commented after Eugene had left.
Norman simply nodded as he looked at the strange metallic arch against the far wall. “We need proof though. Without that, the Council can just say we attacked them without provocation. For now, we play nice. Especially with the increasing frequency of collapses.”
“For once, I agree. Splitting our focus now could be dangerous.”
“Speaking of, have we heard anything from Admiral Barnes? I thought we would have heard something from him yesterday.”
“Reports came back from the border. It appears the Alacala lands have been pushed back to make way for a sea. Which broke the teleporter network to our south.”
That wasn’t good news. Normenia relied heavily on the trade between the two lands. “How long until the network is operational again?”
“A few days,” Grobert replied. “I can’t make a chain across the water so I have to make one around it.”
Norman just nodded. What else could he do?
Grobert was the only person capable of making the teleporters. He knew his wife and the others were researching the problem along with the gron magitech but it was slow going. Unlike the soul trap, he had broken apart earlier, the gron tech was not based on magical circles. And Grobert wasn’t willing to share his insights due to his promise.
That was fine, he had faith the enchanters would figure it out eventually.
“Okay. How soon until you can get started?”
“I would have started a few hours ago but I was waiting for you.”
Norman accepted the chastisement in stride. “Sorry.”
The man gripped Norman’s arm firmly, making him glance down at him. “Don’t let them change who you are. And don’t let their lies twist your convictions either.”
“I- I won’t.”
Grobert held Norman’s gaze for a moment until he was sure his words had sunk in. Then he gave a single nod before vanishing.
Norman let out a shuttering breath. He hadn’t realized how much Bertrand’s barbed words had affected him until now, the doubt that had crept into his mind. It was an insidious thing that was causing him to second-guess himself.
He tried his best to be a good leader. To not fall into the trap of becoming a tyrant. It was just so much easier to do what he wanted instead of trying to do what was right. But he also knew being good for the sake of being good was equally a trap. One where he let outside forces walk all over him because he feared what people might think. It was a thin line he had to walk to ensure Normenia was strong, and his people thrived.
He had to remember, he did this not just for him, but for all of Normenia. The burden was his to carry because he had chosen to do so and the people trusted him to do what was right. Even if what was right was not always easy.
Grobert's words echoed in his mind, calming him. Once the anger and doubt faded away, Norman opened his eyes again. “One step at a time, one day at a time,” he whispered into the empty room.
With his mind once more settled, he spun up a complex spell that covered the room in pale threads of light that soon faded from view.
This new Mana-Binding spell would trigger if anyone entered the room, sticking to them and violently collapsing any spell they tried to form. It would also cling to them like a spiderweb, slowing and eventually halting all movement.
The spell’s fragile nature made it slow to cast and not very practical for combat. But it was perfect for setting traps in an enclosed space. This spell came into existence when he attempted to see how far he could push ethereal binding.
The strange targeting symbol was far more versatile than he originally gave it credit for.
He walked out of the room, a slight heat haze the only thing that gave away the spell’s location. And if you weren’t looking closely, you could easily miss it.
The next spell he cast covered the tunnel in a strange barrier that looked like shifting smoked glass. As the smokey panes slid against each other, they made slight cracking sounds that set your nerves on end.
This was Norman’s modified Wall of Fog. It allowed his Death Knights and a few other select individuals to pass through unharmed. Anyone else attempting to pass through the barrier would find themselves in a world of pain as it sheared apart their body and twisted their soul.
The spell started to flicker and fade out and Norman hurried to pull out a black gem that he fixed to the floor inside the barrier. Once the gem was in place, the barrier settled again.
This was one mana-hungry spell and normally could not last more than a few minutes on its own power. It was a good thing Norman had plenty of catalysts to keep it active. The original version of the spell lasted longer but wasn’t as strong. Norman preferred this version since it didn’t simply kill the target, it also affected the soul. This way if the person that touched the wall managed to escape, they would be left deformed even if they were resurrected.
Norman had tried adding the soul trap aspect to his other spells but quickly learned that as soon as the spell ended, the ability for it to hold the soul ended as well. The only way to hold a soul after that was to have a permanent spell like his phylactery or soul traps.
He reached into his pocket and handed the Death Knight a small pouch filled with the cough drop-sized gems of condensed mana. “Each of these should last around an hour. Just push a new one into the barrier when it starts to flicker.”
The knight accepted the bag with a nod and salute.
The catalysts inside the bag would last around two days. By then he hoped to have an enchanted barrier in place. While creating the catalysts wasn’t hard, it did take time.
