Mara had achieved that which many could only dream of. A good night’s rest. After returning from her misadventures the previous night, she’d spent several painful minutes sewing a wound on her side closed. Thankfully Albrecht’s magical blow had glanced off her ribs, creating nothing more than a cut that appeared to be more serious than it was. After boiling some bandages to cover the gauze she’d applied, Mara had scrubbed the basin clean of the strange black liquid that constituted her blood. Mara had tiptoed to the kitchen purely to bathe the cleaning rags in radiant salts and save Solvi the worst effects of her blood.
Her restful repose on the sofa was disrupted by the tolling of the morning bells, forcing her to groggily pull herself up. Wrapped from head to foot in her blanket, Mara pulled some fresh clothes from the rack before the fire and slid into the bathroom, her blanket crumbling onto the floor behind her. Mara and Solvi were one of the few lucky ones to afford an apartment by pooling their pay. Renting a home was very difficult on account of many buildings no longer existing. Many had been reduced to begging on the streets to get their daily crust. Generous bakeries would leave day-old bread under their awnings for these unfortunates.
Mara distracted herself from her dark thoughts by running a bath, sitting awkwardly next to it fully clothed at it ran. Once the steam had risen, she unbuckled her mask and hung it facing the window. It had been glowing a dark hue moments before, but Mara didn’t seem to notice as she slid into the bath, taking care to avoid her bandages. She listened to the radio as it clicked on. Solvi was up and, from the sounds of it, lighting the stove with her flint. Mara smiled with amusement as she remembered Solvi’s aversion to using magic. Why did she insist on making life harder for herself?
She was jerked back to reality as she heard her sora’s voice on the radio. Renaud had been known to frequent the airwaves from time to time, but Mara had hoped he’d developed a distaste for it by now. She was glad that his hunger for fame hadn’t rubbed off on her even if his love for elvish history had.
“Could we not find work for these destitute people? The Royal Legionnaires are in dire need of good elvish soldiers, given the state of them! Why, last night I heard of people being absconded with on the streets of this very city!” Renaud’s voice filtered, muffled through the door. Mara sat a little more upright in her bath, cocking her head to the side. “It seems to me that the old days of Yandite incompetence have returned full force because of their unwillingness to look to us. What could they fear, I wonder?” He continued making a very dangerous implication to Mara’s ear. He was probably allowing his emotions to run away from him again, given the presenter’s fawning comments about Renaud’s astute observations. Yet the bright-voiced young man seemed to have a brain cell or two, as he asked if Renaud had any observations on the Sunburst Army.
“They are a misguided and angry elvish youth that has been forgotten by society. With some coaxing I’m sure-.” Renaud’s voice was cut off quite suddenly, a noise of irritation travelling through the door. Mara listened to the weather, pondering whether Renaud truly believed what he’d said. Given his words the previous night, Mara wondered if his appearance was for one of his many backers. The man had been working on fundraising for months for yet another big venture he’d planned.
Once Mara had finished, she strapped her mask back on and redressed herself. With a cheery whistle on her lips, she left the bath to take over breakfast from Solvi, who looked on with relief. She took the freshly ironed uniform Mara had prepared and slunk off to the bathroom while Mara tended to the fried tira wings. Mara pulled a disapproving face but knew it was foolish not to expect an orsan woman not to eat meat every meal. The masked mage added some blanched greens for her tall companion’s benefit whilst moving over to the radio to switch back to Renaud’s early morning interview.
“Don’t even think about it.” Solvi’s voice came from the shower, prompting Mara to pull her hand away as if the dial were scalding. “The last thing I want to hear is your grandfather’s unhinged ramblings about elvish history. Or the persecution in every corner.” Solvi added, audibly spitting out suds as she continued her bathing. Mara bristled and returned to cooking with a mildly irritated air.
“Firstly, he’s my sora. Not a blood relation!” Mara shouted over her shoulder at the bathroom door. “Secondly, he may be a little odd but I admire him. You’d do well to respect him in front of me!” Mara added as she began to cut the meat from the bone, not having time to rest it. Which is why she’d wanted to make it tonight. With a frustrated huff, she snapped her fingers at the fire and extinguished it. After plating up, Mara placed both plates on their tiny table and sat herself down to eat. Mara canted her mask at an angle and tilted her head down. Whilst eating, Mara looked like some form of strange, hunched bird. She remembered how often Renaud had insisted she behave properly and take the mask off. She smiled at the haughty, grumpy version of herself that had first been thrust into his care. Well, more so. It wasn’t long before Solvi emerged with her ill-fitting uniform and sat before the meal with a confused expression.
“This looks like dinner.”
“That’s because it is my dear muttonhead. You cooked what I was going to use tonight.” Mara spoke without looking up from her food, causing her mask to act as an impromptu face in a most unsettling way. Solvi grunted and reluctantly began to eat her greens. She was at that special human age when what one wants to eat and what one can eat are two separate things. Mara briefly felt sorry for her but recalled that she had to endure an entire century of being elderly. If she was lucky and her accident hadn’t shortened her life. “I suppose I’ll have to use those sausages Dugard gave you. Did you ever report him for smuggling reagents?” Mara asked, making light conversation over the dreary news the radio was delivering.
“Report him? He got you that weird obsidian you wanted.” Solvi seemed surprised, looking up from her food. Mara blushed, finishing her own food and pulling her mask to its original position. The two of them shared a moment of uncomfortable silence, informing Solvi she had once again reached the forbidden subject. Yet it seemed the lack of proper breakfast had made the orsan woman exceptionally brave this morning and she pressed on regardless. “Unusually quiet this morning. Didn’t do anything savoury with that obsidian, then?” Solvi asked with an icy hint in her voice that threatened to become an argument as Mara shifted in her seat.
“Nothing that would get me arrested, officer.” Mara replied coolly, standing and moving over to her bag. After quickly checking to make sure her books for the day were present, she turned to look back at Solvi. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll be home earlier today. The new students always start crying when I introduce them to arcanography. Maybe I’ll break my record this year.” Mara mused jokingly, walking to the door and opening it with a cheery farewell to her bemused roommate.
The journey to Yanhelm University was considerably more tepid as the population of the city nursed various celebration-induced injuries. Mara walked past bleary-eyed bakers, blacked-out blacksmiths and somnolent students once she reached their apartments. Hardly any of them had the energy to make their own amusement at the evil masked priestess walking through their midst. It was a blessing, really, when Mara made her way up the grand steps that lead to the University gatehouse. Involuntarily, Mara remembered the day the orsan forces had broken through the curtain wall. This university had become an improvised fortress thanks to its high walls, close entranceways and plentiful trees for the defenders to climb and throw rocks from. That night, Mara had been tending to the wounded in a field hospital on the grounds. She could still remember the smell of the burning city, the cries of pitched battle and the absolute terror as the orsan women broke through one of the gates. The vice-chancellor had cast a great ball of flame into their ranks before their shaman could react. The smell of what remained had stuck with her to this day. As had the crater that was once the West Gate.
The laughter of students brought her back, the memorial before her now simply made of stone rather than broken earth and bodies. They were too young, Mara remembered. To the other mortal races, the cloaked mage would be an ancient and powerful sorceress rather than the unimpressive elf she was. Ninety-two years on Auryth and she still felt so young. Yet the memorial had reminded her, firmly, that she was older than most could hope to live.
With that macabre, humbling thought in mind, Mara made her way towards the impressive manor-like campus building that served for the education of the magically inclined pupils. The more impressive teachers were arriving by now. Those able to shape the world with their wits alone. Those who could engineer and reinforce buildings or create machines like the radio Renaud liked appearing on so much. Gaius and herself simply taught theory. Still, she got to teach in this prestigious place that had weathered wars, fallen empires, kings and queens.
She made her entrance and signed in as usual, noting the workers placing carpet over the large sunburst made of black flames on the foyer’s floor. It had been a perfectly preserved Elysian mosaic that the Yandite Empire had covered over. Then, it had been painstakingly restored. Now, it was being covered once more. It made Mara pensive. Was she going to be witness to another chapter of history wherein this sunburst was uncovered?
“Miss Ver Fatuil, could you please stop being existential and go teach your class? You’re five minutes late.” The voice of the vice chancellor interjected. His condescending tone was matched in its intensity only by his moustache, which impressively managed to colonize much of his jaw. Mara had always admired the confidence of a man who could wear mutton chops of such august size. He was wearing an elaborate academic’s robe, gold chain draped across his shoulders. Either this man attended formal functions as a compulsion, or he’d taken to ostentatious displays of his power again.
“It’s just Ver Fatuil. The middle part is the honorific.” Mara spoke in a small voice, slinking away from the puffed-up chancellor as he inflated like the bellows to give her an earful of exactly what he thought of elvish customs. How he’d been forced to use them as a boy, to have a boot to his backside every time he refused. A story Mara had heard many times before and a story she ignored this once as she made her way down the tight corridors of the building towards her latest batch of students. They always came with confidence and smirks, the belief that they were the brightest star in their own tiny galaxy. It was Mara’s job, as Renaud had told her many times, to inform them of the depth of their ignorance. Only from that humbled state could they truly begin to learn the intricacies and majesty of the craft.
As Mara entered the room there was the usual smattering of whispers, pointing and stifled laughs. Let them have their fun, Mara thought. They were about to learn just how relative their normalcy was in comparison to the Arcane. It was time to impart some existential dread, she thought, as she placed her bag underneath the lectern and withdrew her notes. With a wave of her hand, she shuttered the windows and darkened the room before directing her magic at the blackboard, which lit up with several delicate crystalline lights in each corner. Taking a thin baton of orange-yellow metal in her hand, she rapped the blackboard with it to get the hushed body before her to pay attention. Before her sat a diverse gaggle of students from the four corners of Auryth. Coblini, skitti, elves, humans and horned cambions were arrayed before her with varying degrees of interest depending on who paid their tuition. Based on her salary, Mara mused, that must surely be less than half the people in the room.
“Many of you have come from the scholastic system knowing but a few spells useful for everyday life. Foolishly, you have stepped into the domain of Arcanomechanics. This is where the physical is but a suggestion, biology is an afterthought. Chemistry is a cruel joke. Simply put, you have chosen to study aberrations of the natural order.” Mara began, drawing a diagram with her stylus upon the blackboard. First, she drew a large illusory circle and coloured it purple. “At the foremost of magical energies is the Arcane. A limitless font of energy that all living creatures can, to a greater or lesser degree, draw on to power a set of instructions determined by the semantic comprehension of the world by the creature casting.” Mara then faced the class, stylus grasped firmly in both hands. “Why, with access to this limitless field of energy, are we mortal creatures unable to draw on this raw power?”
The students looked to each other with varying degrees of confusion. Some, Mara assumed, had heard of the Arcane energy all magic was composed of. She expected that many students wouldn’t know and those that did would be too timid on their first day to answer. To her surprise, a familiar voice answered her question.
“The energy must first be converted to usable forms that have a lower frequency or the resistance inherent to our flesh will cause the Backfire Effect.” The reply came in a thick Idharan accent, its voice belonging to Professor Renaud. The smug older elf was seated at the back of the class with the hood of his robes up, specifically to avoid Mara’s notice. She gritted her teeth behind her mask and nodded stiffly, drawing a further two orbs branching from the purple orb. One dark green, the other a very pale yellow. She drew the arcanographical symbols for Arcane, Necrotic and Radiant magic within each circle.
“My esteemed colleague who is supposed to be teaching a class of his own is correct. As we transition the magic from raw arcane, it loses energy and becomes a lower frequency. Strong mages can cast spells using these powerful energies, but novices must translate to lower states.” Mara explained, accenting her point by drawing on the arcane to create a ball of pure radiant energy and necrotic energy in each hand, balancing them both with her arms spread wide. She then brought her hands together in a mighty clap, the two balls detonating with a small eruption that rattled the shutters in their frames. “One energy causes excitation. The other causes stasis. When brought together, they cancel each other out. A mage who draws on too much power and isn’t experienced enough to hold it will cause the Backfire Effect. The energy will decay to its lowest energy state, heat.” Mara then drew a formula on the blackboard but, seeing a few blank faces in the crowd, decided to elaborate. She drew a small stick figure before conjuring an illusory fire around it. Many seemed to understand it at that point.
“But what happens when someone’s exposed to pure necrotic energy for prolonged periods of time?” Came Renaud’s irritating question, causing Mara’s knuckles to grow taut under her gloves. Would his childish pranks never cease? The cloaked mage turned promptly to her lectern and seemed to be ignoring the question until the students, sensing weakness, pounced on it and began demanding the answer. Wearily, the cloaked mage pulled the board up to a fresh screen and drew her quickest approximation of a body.
“If a spell directly introduces necrotic energy to a specific portion of the body, its slowing effects will cause that part of the body to cease functioning over time. If it can be ministered to before necrosis sets in, the patient will usually make a full recovery. If it’s ambient necrotic energy the entire body will slowly shut down depending on the severity of the surrounding emanations.” Mara explained in a terse voice, the stylus turning from graceful dancer to a spider that spun a confusing web of veins and arteries over the body. “If exposure is minimal for elongated periods, the body will slowly grow a tolerance to these energies. It’s a common sign of necromancers who deal with this energy daily.” Mara continued, before rounding on her students. She pointed the stylus like a knife at the front row, running it up and down the bench’s length with deliberate slowness.
“Necromancy is illegal in Gard. Those who practice it can expect to face prison. It’s also highly immoral as it disturbs the dead. The most profane necromancy is, of course, resurrection. Although, amusingly, that spell requires a bundle of radiant energies slowly secreted throughout the body. It’s very difficult to perform and prone to backfires.” Mara spoke with relish, watching her students run the gambit of intrigued, disgusted, hopeful then wide-eyed. Many of them were intelligent enough to be warned off. Mara nodded with relief, feeling the weight of vice chancellor Vorstadt leave her back. She then pulled the original blackboard back into position, returning to her teaching stature before her focus was once again broken by the imposition of her sora.
“I heard that you’d devised a suit capable of walking in strong necrotic energies. How did you design such a thing without practicing necromancy?” He asked with exaggerated naivety, adjusting his glasses with a mischievous smile. Mara, who had reached her limit, flicked her stylus and illuminated Renaud’s chair, causing him to look around with confusion. He then noted the ball of light floating above his head and nodded with a smile. It was an elementary spell, like the one she’d used on Albrecht. Albeit this one wasn’t likely to blind the entire room of students and emitted a pleasant hum than excessive bang.
“Professor Renaud if you’re intent on teaching my class, would you give me the pleasure of a reason?” Mara asked with all the stilted professionalism she could muster. The barely contained exasperation managed to creep into her voice regardless and quite a few students giggled as the affable Renaud stood from his chair. He then used the backs of the benches as steppingstones, reaching the front of the class with a bow and a round of applause. Mara couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous display that was her sora when he was entertaining.
“The reason I’m teaching your class is because I am meant to be covering you before your sabbatical.” Renaud answered with a gainful smile, causing Mara to shift her head. She was perplexed. She’d heard nothing about a sabbatical, nor had she applied for one. She hadn’t even taken a holiday in the five years she’d been teaching. Bemused, she looked to her sora’s expression. A few of her students whispered between each other before a few stifled giggles were heard. “Ah but your students must be as confused as you! Please, go see Renata. She has the briefs. I will finish up here.” Renaud smiled warmly, taking his sana’s hands in his own with a firm, filial grasp. Mara found herself in the familiar situation of having to accept her sora’s antics or risk making a scene. With her hands in his, she leaned forwards.
“You can’t see my face but know I’m fedan angry.” Mara said in a deceptively light tone as she picked up her bag. She clapped her notes in Renaud’s hand, who took a moment to peruse them as his sana was busy striding out of the room like a Legionnaire.
“There’s a miscalculation on page 2!” Renaud shouted after her with a genial smile at her students, who laughed a little at their new teacher’s eccentricities.
“No there isn’t! It’s Yandite Arcanography!” Mara shouted from the doorway, stopping just shy of slamming it shut behind her as she began making her way to the historical area of the campus. It was perhaps the deepest of ironies that a Gardish history faculty was built in the old Elysian Empire governor’s villa from millennia ago. As Fred frequently said; the Elysians built stuff to last. The Skittish talents for engineering and craft were matched only by their propensity for rioting, revolting and revelry. And Fred was an exemplary representative of his people.
The Elysian building was a patchwork mix of ancient stonework and modern brick, hastily slathered in spackle and painted. The old remnants of Elysian vine-like designs crawled up the pillars and arches of the building which had an impressive imitation of the original roof’s dark slates. It was a surprisingly small building considering the grandeur the Elysians usually liked to impart but, Mara mused, it was a home rather than a palace or library. As she entered the history faculty, Mara came to stand next to a surprising face as she went to check in. Arthur was standing in front of the desk, laughing and telling jokes to the man behind the desk. Arthur had found his robes once again but had supplemented them with an expertly crafted breastplate etched with protective magic. At his side, he carried a heavy-looking flanged mace with a shield hanging from a string tied to his cape pins. Whenever he shifted his stance while speaking, Mara caught sight of the metal glint of his grieves and heavy boots.
“I don’t think there’s much call for adventuring in a university, Arthur.” Mara smiled, signing herself in as she extended a hand to the younger man. Arthur, who seemed to have forgotten to shave that morning, turned to see Mara with a bright smile. He took her hand and shook, gauntlet-gloved hand almost enveloping Mara’s considerably smaller digits. It was only outside the clamour of his rescue did Mara notice how large Arthur was. She supposed that was a good enough reason for Albrecht to bother battering the man unconscious. Had he been awake, Mara was sure Arthur would have flattened any dregs Albrecht sent at him.
“There isn’t? A pity. I’ll have to make do with the contract I’ve been called to sign.” Arthur grinned cheekily, walking away from the desk as he did so. He paused and took note when he saw that Mara was trotting along behind him, rifling with her notes. It was only when she pulled a decanter of water from her bag that she noticed Arthur travelling the same direction as she was. She lifted her mask slightly and slipped the straw under it, sipping for a moment before Arthur stopped. “You wouldn’t happen to be seeing Professor Renata Coll, would you?” He asked, shifting his bag’s weight to rest on his breastplate rather than the thick shoulder muscle he sported.
“The very same. I was sent here by one very irritating father figure.” Mara said in a facetiously light tone, moving past Arthur as he shrugged, continuing his path with a pensive look about him. Eventually, the question that was clearly eating him found its voice.
“This Professor Renaud fellow. I’ve heard him on the radio and how people speak of him. Why would he hire a human?” Arthur grumbled, hands knotting before him. Mara looked over her shoulder quickly, hand scratching the side of her mask with an exhale of consternation. The shorter mage briefly considered her words before she spoke, knowing full well that many wouldn’t believe the truth.
“Gaius is not the man you see in public. He’s very kind, personable and funny. He can be irritating but that’s what family are. I think what he says in public is simply what people expect him to say. His younger self cultivated an audience he can’t advocate for honestly anymore.” Mara spoke haltingly with an odd amount of conviction considering her true feelings on the matter. She didn’t want to think poorly of the man. But lately he had become somewhat boorish and stubborn about seemingly random things. Topics that they once talked about ad nauseam now had become taboo, lest he be angry and petulant.
“Are you sure Gaius is the person and Professor Renaud the persona?” Arthur asked with surprising barbs for so gentle a man. Mara was surprised and garbled a few words out for a moment before they arrived at Renata’s door. Awkwardly, Mara reached over to open the door without meeting Arthur’s eyes. She filed into the room only to see that her haste had caused her to interrupt a meeting between Renata and two others. Two familiar others, apparently as standing before her were Solvi and Fred. The two of them didn’t seem particularly content with Fred flagrantly disregarding the campus’ prohibition on smoking while Solvi paced in her ill-fitting uniform. When she looked up to see who had entered unannounced, Solvi’s eyebrows contracted in a furious gaze.
“You! Did you organize this little stunt? Or was it all the doing of father dearest?” Solvi accused with hands clenched tightly into fists. Mara felt Solvi’s tone impact her like a rogue wave, causing her to stand in place with a stunned stance. “Since obviously not I’ll tell you. My commanding officer was told of our nocturnal activities and fired me on the spot the second I got into the offices. When I returned home what should I find but some elvish youth telling me that a job’s been arranged for me.” Solvi shouted, angrily baring her teeth as she paced. Fred simply removed the pipe from his lips and puffed a smoke ring. An irritated Renata clapped her hand on her desk for silence. This domineering elf woman was someone that Mara was well acquainted with. An old flame of Renaud’s, the two had spent many happy years together before Renaud’s transition to public figure. After that, the two had grown apart with some considerable volatility. The relationship had been based on their shared love of elvish history but the ‘generous’ interpretations his modern speeches featured had driven them apart. Mara was surprised she would consent to being in the same room with him at this stage.
“Gaius’ schoolyard machinations aside, I am the one hiring the team. He recommended you all due to your unique skill sets and, in the case of Mara, her expertise.” Renata explained with patient exasperation. The kind of restrained contempt that Mara some day aspired to have for her students. Not that she would, obviously. Well, maybe a little. As a treat. “Because the man philanders in a relationship with the truth, I saw fit to vet you personally. I have planned an expedition into the mountains surrounding Yanhelm to find the temple of residence for Arawn.” Renata continued.
A silence fell over the room and even Solvi’s seething anger seemed to recede in the face of this potential historical sea change. The temples of residence were the holiest sites in every area of the ancient world for they were the temples which the gods dwelled in bodily before their demise. Pilgrims could journey from all corners of the world and meet their god in the proverbial flesh. Mara found herself quaking with a mixture of fear and excitement at the prospect of entering such a hallowed place.
“You mean the very temple Mira Ir Tolves took refuge in? The place necromancy was created?!” Mira exclaimed with barely abated excitement, overflowing from her with such vigour that even Solvi was surprised. “Such a place could be a treasure trove of forbidden knowledge and artifacts, the place where Mira’s body could have been laid to rest. Recent Elysian architecture could mean it’s still standing after all this time! But if it’s there how has nobody ever found it?” Mara babbled, barely giving Renata a chance to further explain as the incorrigible amateur historian insisted on gushing about this potentiality. Solvi, for her part, found herself smiling despite her anger at Mara’s incessant chattering. Fred raised an eyebrow, mouth pulled back in acknowledgement of the gravitas of the project. Arthur had turned white as the snow they’d soon be trudging through, his knuckles clenched around the pommel of his mace.
“There have been many proposed sites over the centuries, but the difficulty often comes in the inexact nature of our sources. Not so long ago, after the war, I deigned to look with Gaius’ instruments rather than my eyes and shovel. We detected an abnormally high concentration of necrotic energy.” Renata explained, pointing to several pins in her map of the mountains. The most recent, white-headed pin was placed next to a rock formation locals knew as “The White Lady”. “After hiring a few workers and sinking some trenches we discovered some artifacts that all but proved it to be an Elysian site. But, as is the nature of things, I lacked funding.” Renata frowned as she leaned back in her chair, stroking her iron-grey bun back into position. “Until recently when Renaud managed to secure a benefactor for us. And, apparently, all of you.”
“So according to Renaud I am better suited for archaeology than guard duties?” Solvi seethed, sitting herself down. The irony was that even seated Solvi was still eye level with almost everyone in the room. Mara felt a pang of guilt at forgetting Solvi’s predicament. Renata rearranged her emerald, green fur-lined robes before giving Solvi an understanding look.
“Gaius has ever been an excitable fool where Elys is concerned. On my word, you shall have a letter of recommendation upon the completion of our dig. Though perhaps you might consider a career that offers a fitting uniform.” Renata observed with raised eyebrows, spying a good portion of Solvi’s calf as the hem of her trousers rode up. Solvi made a noise of disgust, looking away from the assembled group.
“I thought I was doing right by the people of Gard. If Renaud wants to pay me that ridiculous sum to whack wolves while he plays in the snow, it’ll be coin well earned.” Solvi looked down at her ill-fitting uniform with distaste before her eyes met Mara’s impassive mask. It oozed that black mist briefly, causing Solvi’s eyes to narrow as the rest of the group busied themselves with signing contracts and agreeing terms. Arthur, it seemed, had followed his father into becoming a healer. Though he worked through devotion and magic rather than needles and ointments. Fred had agreed to become their resident trap expert, ready to disarm any nasty machinations that lay in wait within the sacred site. When the contract was prompted under Solvi’s nose, she signed it without looking. Her gaze remained firmly fixed upon Mara with an intensity that said they were soon due a discussion on this strangeness.
Finally, the contract came to Mara. She leafed through it and scoffed at a few stipulations before she arrived at the payments section. Mara scanned through the various deductions, penalties, stipulations and legalese to arrive at the actual sum. She stopped, grip tightening as she beheld the actual number.
“How much!?”
Mara had achieved that which many could only dream of. A good night’s rest. After returning from her misadventures the previous night, she’d spent several painful minutes sewing a wound on her side closed. Thankfully Albrecht’s magical blow had glanced off her ribs, creating nothing more than a cut that appeared to be more serious than it was. After boiling some bandages to cover the gauze she’d applied, Mara had scrubbed the basin clean of the strange black liquid that constituted her blood. Mara had tiptoed to the kitchen purely to bathe the cleaning rags in radiant salts and save Solvi the worst effects of her blood.
Her restful repose on the sofa was disrupted by the tolling of the morning bells, forcing her to groggily pull herself up. Wrapped from head to foot in her blanket, Mara pulled some fresh clothes from the rack before the fire and slid into the bathroom, her blanket crumbling onto the floor behind her. Mara and Solvi were one of the few lucky ones to afford an apartment by pooling their pay. Renting a home was very difficult on account of many buildings no longer existing. Many had been reduced to begging on the streets to get their daily crust. Generous bakeries would leave day-old bread under their awnings for these unfortunates.
Mara distracted herself from her dark thoughts by running a bath, sitting awkwardly next to it fully clothed at it ran. Once the steam had risen, she unbuckled her mask and hung it facing the window. It had been glowing a dark hue moments before, but Mara didn’t seem to notice as she slid into the bath, taking care to avoid her bandages. She listened to the radio as it clicked on. Solvi was up and, from the sounds of it, lighting the stove with her flint. Mara smiled with amusement as she remembered Solvi’s aversion to using magic. Why did she insist on making life harder for herself?
She was jerked back to reality as she heard her sora’s voice on the radio. Renaud had been known to frequent the airwaves from time to time, but Mara had hoped he’d developed a distaste for it by now. She was glad that his hunger for fame hadn’t rubbed off on her even if his love for elvish history had.
“Could we not find work for these destitute people? The Royal Legionnaires are in dire need of good elvish soldiers, given the state of them! Why, last night I heard of people being absconded with on the streets of this very city!” Renaud’s voice filtered, muffled through the door. Mara sat a little more upright in her bath, cocking her head to the side. “It seems to me that the old days of Yandite incompetence have returned full force because of their unwillingness to look to us. What could they fear, I wonder?” He continued making a very dangerous implication to Mara’s ear. He was probably allowing his emotions to run away from him again, given the presenter’s fawning comments about Renaud’s astute observations. Yet the bright-voiced young man seemed to have a brain cell or two, as he asked if Renaud had any observations on the Sunburst Army.
“They are a misguided and angry elvish youth that has been forgotten by society. With some coaxing I’m sure-.” Renaud’s voice was cut off quite suddenly, a noise of irritation travelling through the door. Mara listened to the weather, pondering whether Renaud truly believed what he’d said. Given his words the previous night, Mara wondered if his appearance was for one of his many backers. The man had been working on fundraising for months for yet another big venture he’d planned.
Once Mara had finished, she strapped her mask back on and redressed herself. With a cheery whistle on her lips, she left the bath to take over breakfast from Solvi, who looked on with relief. She took the freshly ironed uniform Mara had prepared and slunk off to the bathroom while Mara tended to the fried tira wings. Mara pulled a disapproving face but knew it was foolish not to expect an orsan woman not to eat meat every meal. The masked mage added some blanched greens for her tall companion’s benefit whilst moving over to the radio to switch back to Renaud’s early morning interview.
“Don’t even think about it.” Solvi’s voice came from the shower, prompting Mara to pull her hand away as if the dial were scalding. “The last thing I want to hear is your grandfather’s unhinged ramblings about elvish history. Or the persecution in every corner.” Solvi added, audibly spitting out suds as she continued her bathing. Mara bristled and returned to cooking with a mildly irritated air.
“Firstly, he’s my sora. Not a blood relation!” Mara shouted over her shoulder at the bathroom door. “Secondly, he may be a little odd but I admire him. You’d do well to respect him in front of me!” Mara added as she began to cut the meat from the bone, not having time to rest it. Which is why she’d wanted to make it tonight. With a frustrated huff, she snapped her fingers at the fire and extinguished it. After plating up, Mara placed both plates on their tiny table and sat herself down to eat. Mara canted her mask at an angle and tilted her head down. Whilst eating, Mara looked like some form of strange, hunched bird. She remembered how often Renaud had insisted she behave properly and take the mask off. She smiled at the haughty, grumpy version of herself that had first been thrust into his care. Well, more so. It wasn’t long before Solvi emerged with her ill-fitting uniform and sat before the meal with a confused expression.
“This looks like dinner.”
“That’s because it is my dear muttonhead. You cooked what I was going to use tonight.” Mara spoke without looking up from her food, causing her mask to act as an impromptu face in a most unsettling way. Solvi grunted and reluctantly began to eat her greens. She was at that special human age when what one wants to eat and what one can eat are two separate things. Mara briefly felt sorry for her but recalled that she had to endure an entire century of being elderly. If she was lucky and her accident hadn’t shortened her life. “I suppose I’ll have to use those sausages Dugard gave you. Did you ever report him for smuggling reagents?” Mara asked, making light conversation over the dreary news the radio was delivering.
“Report him? He got you that weird obsidian you wanted.” Solvi seemed surprised, looking up from her food. Mara blushed, finishing her own food and pulling her mask to its original position. The two of them shared a moment of uncomfortable silence, informing Solvi she had once again reached the forbidden subject. Yet it seemed the lack of proper breakfast had made the orsan woman exceptionally brave this morning and she pressed on regardless. “Unusually quiet this morning. Didn’t do anything savoury with that obsidian, then?” Solvi asked with an icy hint in her voice that threatened to become an argument as Mara shifted in her seat.
“Nothing that would get me arrested, officer.” Mara replied coolly, standing and moving over to her bag. After quickly checking to make sure her books for the day were present, she turned to look back at Solvi. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll be home earlier today. The new students always start crying when I introduce them to arcanography. Maybe I’ll break my record this year.” Mara mused jokingly, walking to the door and opening it with a cheery farewell to her bemused roommate.
The journey to Yanhelm University was considerably more tepid as the population of the city nursed various celebration-induced injuries. Mara walked past bleary-eyed bakers, blacked-out blacksmiths and somnolent students once she reached their apartments. Hardly any of them had the energy to make their own amusement at the evil masked priestess walking through their midst. It was a blessing, really, when Mara made her way up the grand steps that lead to the University gatehouse. Involuntarily, Mara remembered the day the orsan forces had broken through the curtain wall. This university had become an improvised fortress thanks to its high walls, close entranceways and plentiful trees for the defenders to climb and throw rocks from. That night, Mara had been tending to the wounded in a field hospital on the grounds. She could still remember the smell of the burning city, the cries of pitched battle and the absolute terror as the orsan women broke through one of the gates. The vice-chancellor had cast a great ball of flame into their ranks before their shaman could react. The smell of what remained had stuck with her to this day. As had the crater that was once the West Gate.
The laughter of students brought her back, the memorial before her now simply made of stone rather than broken earth and bodies. They were too young, Mara remembered. To the other mortal races, the cloaked mage would be an ancient and powerful sorceress rather than the unimpressive elf she was. Ninety-two years on Auryth and she still felt so young. Yet the memorial had reminded her, firmly, that she was older than most could hope to live.
With that macabre, humbling thought in mind, Mara made her way towards the impressive manor-like campus building that served for the education of the magically inclined pupils. The more impressive teachers were arriving by now. Those able to shape the world with their wits alone. Those who could engineer and reinforce buildings or create machines like the radio Renaud liked appearing on so much. Gaius and herself simply taught theory. Still, she got to teach in this prestigious place that had weathered wars, fallen empires, kings and queens.
She made her entrance and signed in as usual, noting the workers placing carpet over the large sunburst made of black flames on the foyer’s floor. It had been a perfectly preserved Elysian mosaic that the Yandite Empire had covered over. Then, it had been painstakingly restored. Now, it was being covered once more. It made Mara pensive. Was she going to be witness to another chapter of history wherein this sunburst was uncovered?
“Miss Ver Fatuil, could you please stop being existential and go teach your class? You’re five minutes late.” The voice of the vice chancellor interjected. His condescending tone was matched in its intensity only by his moustache, which impressively managed to colonize much of his jaw. Mara had always admired the confidence of a man who could wear mutton chops of such august size. He was wearing an elaborate academic’s robe, gold chain draped across his shoulders. Either this man attended formal functions as a compulsion, or he’d taken to ostentatious displays of his power again.
“It’s just Ver Fatuil. The middle part is the honorific.” Mara spoke in a small voice, slinking away from the puffed-up chancellor as he inflated like the bellows to give her an earful of exactly what he thought of elvish customs. How he’d been forced to use them as a boy, to have a boot to his backside every time he refused. A story Mara had heard many times before and a story she ignored this once as she made her way down the tight corridors of the building towards her latest batch of students. They always came with confidence and smirks, the belief that they were the brightest star in their own tiny galaxy. It was Mara’s job, as Renaud had told her many times, to inform them of the depth of their ignorance. Only from that humbled state could they truly begin to learn the intricacies and majesty of the craft.
As Mara entered the room there was the usual smattering of whispers, pointing and stifled laughs. Let them have their fun, Mara thought. They were about to learn just how relative their normalcy was in comparison to the Arcane. It was time to impart some existential dread, she thought, as she placed her bag underneath the lectern and withdrew her notes. With a wave of her hand, she shuttered the windows and darkened the room before directing her magic at the blackboard, which lit up with several delicate crystalline lights in each corner. Taking a thin baton of orange-yellow metal in her hand, she rapped the blackboard with it to get the hushed body before her to pay attention. Before her sat a diverse gaggle of students from the four corners of Auryth. Coblini, skitti, elves, humans and horned cambions were arrayed before her with varying degrees of interest depending on who paid their tuition. Based on her salary, Mara mused, that must surely be less than half the people in the room.
“Many of you have come from the scholastic system knowing but a few spells useful for everyday life. Foolishly, you have stepped into the domain of Arcanomechanics. This is where the physical is but a suggestion, biology is an afterthought. Chemistry is a cruel joke. Simply put, you have chosen to study aberrations of the natural order.” Mara began, drawing a diagram with her stylus upon the blackboard. First, she drew a large illusory circle and coloured it purple. “At the foremost of magical energies is the Arcane. A limitless font of energy that all living creatures can, to a greater or lesser degree, draw on to power a set of instructions determined by the semantic comprehension of the world by the creature casting.” Mara then faced the class, stylus grasped firmly in both hands. “Why, with access to this limitless field of energy, are we mortal creatures unable to draw on this raw power?”
The students looked to each other with varying degrees of confusion. Some, Mara assumed, had heard of the Arcane energy all magic was composed of. She expected that many students wouldn’t know and those that did would be too timid on their first day to answer. To her surprise, a familiar voice answered her question.
“The energy must first be converted to usable forms that have a lower frequency or the resistance inherent to our flesh will cause the Backfire Effect.” The reply came in a thick Idharan accent, its voice belonging to Professor Renaud. The smug older elf was seated at the back of the class with the hood of his robes up, specifically to avoid Mara’s notice. She gritted her teeth behind her mask and nodded stiffly, drawing a further two orbs branching from the purple orb. One dark green, the other a very pale yellow. She drew the arcanographical symbols for Arcane, Necrotic and Radiant magic within each circle.
“My esteemed colleague who is supposed to be teaching a class of his own is correct. As we transition the magic from raw arcane, it loses energy and becomes a lower frequency. Strong mages can cast spells using these powerful energies, but novices must translate to lower states.” Mara explained, accenting her point by drawing on the arcane to create a ball of pure radiant energy and necrotic energy in each hand, balancing them both with her arms spread wide. She then brought her hands together in a mighty clap, the two balls detonating with a small eruption that rattled the shutters in their frames. “One energy causes excitation. The other causes stasis. When brought together, they cancel each other out. A mage who draws on too much power and isn’t experienced enough to hold it will cause the Backfire Effect. The energy will decay to its lowest energy state, heat.” Mara then drew a formula on the blackboard but, seeing a few blank faces in the crowd, decided to elaborate. She drew a small stick figure before conjuring an illusory fire around it. Many seemed to understand it at that point.
“But what happens when someone’s exposed to pure necrotic energy for prolonged periods of time?” Came Renaud’s irritating question, causing Mara’s knuckles to grow taut under her gloves. Would his childish pranks never cease? The cloaked mage turned promptly to her lectern and seemed to be ignoring the question until the students, sensing weakness, pounced on it and began demanding the answer. Wearily, the cloaked mage pulled the board up to a fresh screen and drew her quickest approximation of a body.
“If a spell directly introduces necrotic energy to a specific portion of the body, its slowing effects will cause that part of the body to cease functioning over time. If it can be ministered to before necrosis sets in, the patient will usually make a full recovery. If it’s ambient necrotic energy the entire body will slowly shut down depending on the severity of the surrounding emanations.” Mara explained in a terse voice, the stylus turning from graceful dancer to a spider that spun a confusing web of veins and arteries over the body. “If exposure is minimal for elongated periods, the body will slowly grow a tolerance to these energies. It’s a common sign of necromancers who deal with this energy daily.” Mara continued, before rounding on her students. She pointed the stylus like a knife at the front row, running it up and down the bench’s length with deliberate slowness.
“Necromancy is illegal in Gard. Those who practice it can expect to face prison. It’s also highly immoral as it disturbs the dead. The most profane necromancy is, of course, resurrection. Although, amusingly, that spell requires a bundle of radiant energies slowly secreted throughout the body. It’s very difficult to perform and prone to backfires.” Mara spoke with relish, watching her students run the gambit of intrigued, disgusted, hopeful then wide-eyed. Many of them were intelligent enough to be warned off. Mara nodded with relief, feeling the weight of vice chancellor Vorstadt leave her back. She then pulled the original blackboard back into position, returning to her teaching stature before her focus was once again broken by the imposition of her sora.
“I heard that you’d devised a suit capable of walking in strong necrotic energies. How did you design such a thing without practicing necromancy?” He asked with exaggerated naivety, adjusting his glasses with a mischievous smile. Mara, who had reached her limit, flicked her stylus and illuminated Renaud’s chair, causing him to look around with confusion. He then noted the ball of light floating above his head and nodded with a smile. It was an elementary spell, like the one she’d used on Albrecht. Albeit this one wasn’t likely to blind the entire room of students and emitted a pleasant hum than excessive bang.
“Professor Renaud if you’re intent on teaching my class, would you give me the pleasure of a reason?” Mara asked with all the stilted professionalism she could muster. The barely contained exasperation managed to creep into her voice regardless and quite a few students giggled as the affable Renaud stood from his chair. He then used the backs of the benches as steppingstones, reaching the front of the class with a bow and a round of applause. Mara couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous display that was her sora when he was entertaining.
“The reason I’m teaching your class is because I am meant to be covering you before your sabbatical.” Renaud answered with a gainful smile, causing Mara to shift her head. She was perplexed. She’d heard nothing about a sabbatical, nor had she applied for one. She hadn’t even taken a holiday in the five years she’d been teaching. Bemused, she looked to her sora’s expression. A few of her students whispered between each other before a few stifled giggles were heard. “Ah but your students must be as confused as you! Please, go see Renata. She has the briefs. I will finish up here.” Renaud smiled warmly, taking his sana’s hands in his own with a firm, filial grasp. Mara found herself in the familiar situation of having to accept her sora’s antics or risk making a scene. With her hands in his, she leaned forwards.
“You can’t see my face but know I’m fedan angry.” Mara said in a deceptively light tone as she picked up her bag. She clapped her notes in Renaud’s hand, who took a moment to peruse them as his sana was busy striding out of the room like a Legionnaire.
“There’s a miscalculation on page 2!” Renaud shouted after her with a genial smile at her students, who laughed a little at their new teacher’s eccentricities.
“No there isn’t! It’s Yandite Arcanography!” Mara shouted from the doorway, stopping just shy of slamming it shut behind her as she began making her way to the historical area of the campus. It was perhaps the deepest of ironies that a Gardish history faculty was built in the old Elysian Empire governor’s villa from millennia ago. As Fred frequently said; the Elysians built stuff to last. The Skittish talents for engineering and craft were matched only by their propensity for rioting, revolting and revelry. And Fred was an exemplary representative of his people.
The Elysian building was a patchwork mix of ancient stonework and modern brick, hastily slathered in spackle and painted. The old remnants of Elysian vine-like designs crawled up the pillars and arches of the building which had an impressive imitation of the original roof’s dark slates. It was a surprisingly small building considering the grandeur the Elysians usually liked to impart but, Mara mused, it was a home rather than a palace or library. As she entered the history faculty, Mara came to stand next to a surprising face as she went to check in. Arthur was standing in front of the desk, laughing and telling jokes to the man behind the desk. Arthur had found his robes once again but had supplemented them with an expertly crafted breastplate etched with protective magic. At his side, he carried a heavy-looking flanged mace with a shield hanging from a string tied to his cape pins. Whenever he shifted his stance while speaking, Mara caught sight of the metal glint of his grieves and heavy boots.
“I don’t think there’s much call for adventuring in a university, Arthur.” Mara smiled, signing herself in as she extended a hand to the younger man. Arthur, who seemed to have forgotten to shave that morning, turned to see Mara with a bright smile. He took her hand and shook, gauntlet-gloved hand almost enveloping Mara’s considerably smaller digits. It was only outside the clamour of his rescue did Mara notice how large Arthur was. She supposed that was a good enough reason for Albrecht to bother battering the man unconscious. Had he been awake, Mara was sure Arthur would have flattened any dregs Albrecht sent at him.
“There isn’t? A pity. I’ll have to make do with the contract I’ve been called to sign.” Arthur grinned cheekily, walking away from the desk as he did so. He paused and took note when he saw that Mara was trotting along behind him, rifling with her notes. It was only when she pulled a decanter of water from her bag that she noticed Arthur travelling the same direction as she was. She lifted her mask slightly and slipped the straw under it, sipping for a moment before Arthur stopped. “You wouldn’t happen to be seeing Professor Renata Coll, would you?” He asked, shifting his bag’s weight to rest on his breastplate rather than the thick shoulder muscle he sported.
“The very same. I was sent here by one very irritating father figure.” Mara said in a facetiously light tone, moving past Arthur as he shrugged, continuing his path with a pensive look about him. Eventually, the question that was clearly eating him found its voice.
“This Professor Renaud fellow. I’ve heard him on the radio and how people speak of him. Why would he hire a human?” Arthur grumbled, hands knotting before him. Mara looked over her shoulder quickly, hand scratching the side of her mask with an exhale of consternation. The shorter mage briefly considered her words before she spoke, knowing full well that many wouldn’t believe the truth.
“Gaius is not the man you see in public. He’s very kind, personable and funny. He can be irritating but that’s what family are. I think what he says in public is simply what people expect him to say. His younger self cultivated an audience he can’t advocate for honestly anymore.” Mara spoke haltingly with an odd amount of conviction considering her true feelings on the matter. She didn’t want to think poorly of the man. But lately he had become somewhat boorish and stubborn about seemingly random things. Topics that they once talked about ad nauseam now had become taboo, lest he be angry and petulant.
“Are you sure Gaius is the person and Professor Renaud the persona?” Arthur asked with surprising barbs for so gentle a man. Mara was surprised and garbled a few words out for a moment before they arrived at Renata’s door. Awkwardly, Mara reached over to open the door without meeting Arthur’s eyes. She filed into the room only to see that her haste had caused her to interrupt a meeting between Renata and two others. Two familiar others, apparently as standing before her were Solvi and Fred. The two of them didn’t seem particularly content with Fred flagrantly disregarding the campus’ prohibition on smoking while Solvi paced in her ill-fitting uniform. When she looked up to see who had entered unannounced, Solvi’s eyebrows contracted in a furious gaze.
“You! Did you organize this little stunt? Or was it all the doing of father dearest?” Solvi accused with hands clenched tightly into fists. Mara felt Solvi’s tone impact her like a rogue wave, causing her to stand in place with a stunned stance. “Since obviously not I’ll tell you. My commanding officer was told of our nocturnal activities and fired me on the spot the second I got into the offices. When I returned home what should I find but some elvish youth telling me that a job’s been arranged for me.” Solvi shouted, angrily baring her teeth as she paced. Fred simply removed the pipe from his lips and puffed a smoke ring. An irritated Renata clapped her hand on her desk for silence. This domineering elf woman was someone that Mara was well acquainted with. An old flame of Renaud’s, the two had spent many happy years together before Renaud’s transition to public figure. After that, the two had grown apart with some considerable volatility. The relationship had been based on their shared love of elvish history but the ‘generous’ interpretations his modern speeches featured had driven them apart. Mara was surprised she would consent to being in the same room with him at this stage.
“Gaius’ schoolyard machinations aside, I am the one hiring the team. He recommended you all due to your unique skill sets and, in the case of Mara, her expertise.” Renata explained with patient exasperation. The kind of restrained contempt that Mara some day aspired to have for her students. Not that she would, obviously. Well, maybe a little. As a treat. “Because the man philanders in a relationship with the truth, I saw fit to vet you personally. I have planned an expedition into the mountains surrounding Yanhelm to find the temple of residence for Arawn.” Renata continued.
A silence fell over the room and even Solvi’s seething anger seemed to recede in the face of this potential historical sea change. The temples of residence were the holiest sites in every area of the ancient world for they were the temples which the gods dwelled in bodily before their demise. Pilgrims could journey from all corners of the world and meet their god in the proverbial flesh. Mara found herself quaking with a mixture of fear and excitement at the prospect of entering such a hallowed place.
“You mean the very temple Mira Ir Tolves took refuge in? The place necromancy was created?!” Mira exclaimed with barely abated excitement, overflowing from her with such vigour that even Solvi was surprised. “Such a place could be a treasure trove of forbidden knowledge and artifacts, the place where Mira’s body could have been laid to rest. Recent Elysian architecture could mean it’s still standing after all this time! But if it’s there how has nobody ever found it?” Mara babbled, barely giving Renata a chance to further explain as the incorrigible amateur historian insisted on gushing about this potentiality. Solvi, for her part, found herself smiling despite her anger at Mara’s incessant chattering. Fred raised an eyebrow, mouth pulled back in acknowledgement of the gravitas of the project. Arthur had turned white as the snow they’d soon be trudging through, his knuckles clenched around the pommel of his mace.
“There have been many proposed sites over the centuries, but the difficulty often comes in the inexact nature of our sources. Not so long ago, after the war, I deigned to look with Gaius’ instruments rather than my eyes and shovel. We detected an abnormally high concentration of necrotic energy.” Renata explained, pointing to several pins in her map of the mountains. The most recent, white-headed pin was placed next to a rock formation locals knew as “The White Lady”. “After hiring a few workers and sinking some trenches we discovered some artifacts that all but proved it to be an Elysian site. But, as is the nature of things, I lacked funding.” Renata frowned as she leaned back in her chair, stroking her iron-grey bun back into position. “Until recently when Renaud managed to secure a benefactor for us. And, apparently, all of you.”
“So according to Renaud I am better suited for archaeology than guard duties?” Solvi seethed, sitting herself down. The irony was that even seated Solvi was still eye level with almost everyone in the room. Mara felt a pang of guilt at forgetting Solvi’s predicament. Renata rearranged her emerald, green fur-lined robes before giving Solvi an understanding look.
“Gaius has ever been an excitable fool where Elys is concerned. On my word, you shall have a letter of recommendation upon the completion of our dig. Though perhaps you might consider a career that offers a fitting uniform.” Renata observed with raised eyebrows, spying a good portion of Solvi’s calf as the hem of her trousers rode up. Solvi made a noise of disgust, looking away from the assembled group.
“I thought I was doing right by the people of Gard. If Renaud wants to pay me that ridiculous sum to whack wolves while he plays in the snow, it’ll be coin well earned.” Solvi looked down at her ill-fitting uniform with distaste before her eyes met Mara’s impassive mask. It oozed that black mist briefly, causing Solvi’s eyes to narrow as the rest of the group busied themselves with signing contracts and agreeing terms. Arthur, it seemed, had followed his father into becoming a healer. Though he worked through devotion and magic rather than needles and ointments. Fred had agreed to become their resident trap expert, ready to disarm any nasty machinations that lay in wait within the sacred site. When the contract was prompted under Solvi’s nose, she signed it without looking. Her gaze remained firmly fixed upon Mara with an intensity that said they were soon due a discussion on this strangeness.
Finally, the contract came to Mara. She leafed through it and scoffed at a few stipulations before she arrived at the payments section. Mara scanned through the various deductions, penalties, stipulations and legalese to arrive at the actual sum. She stopped, grip tightening as she beheld the actual number.
“How much!?”
