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Harry looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes at the sudden, sharp question. What had caused her to ask such a thing, out of the blue? "I have," he responded back, his voice taking on an obvious, and he was sure, quite chilling, lack of emotion. It was obvious, even to himself.
"Which war were you involved in?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.
Harry waved his hand dismissively at the question. "Not one you would have ever heard of, or have ever seen before," he told her, his voice distant. "It took place a very, very long time ago, and it was a war that only involved sorcerers and sorceresses."
Merri seemed extremely intrigued after he said that last sentence, which was unfortunate, since he would really, really rather not talk about it.
"A war of only magic-users?" she asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and horror. "I can't even begin to imagine what that would have been like. Did you… did you win? What was it about?" she asked eagerly, her curiosity now fully engaged as she moved closer to his desk, almost on instinct.
Harry scowled slightly, a dark shadow passing over his features. "I will answer this," he said, his voice firm, "but no more questions about it after. Understand? I did… win the war, yes. And it was about those who felt that magicals, because of their power, should rule over those who did not have magic. And they were fighting against those of us who believed that magicals should live in peace, in harmony, with their non-magical counterparts."
Merri's face portrayed her surprise quite well, and quite vibrantly. Her eyebrows then scrunched up in thought. "Which side were you on?" she asked, a little hesitantly.
Harry just raised a single, long-suffering eyebrow at her and proceeded to give her a look that clearly showed he thought her to be a complete and utter idiot for even asking. He then, without a word, gestured with his hand to everything around him – the city he was building for all people, the peaceful, harmonious settlement.
She looked confused for a moment, and then her eyes cleared in dawning understanding. She blushed a rather fetching shade of pink, in what he guessed was pure embarrassment at her own, rather obvious, question. "Ah," she said, her voice a little small. "Yes. Of course." She then turned around and walked away, her posture a little stiff, clearly still feeling the sting of her embarrassment. Harry waited until the door had closed softly behind her before he finally, once again, started laughing at her.
...….
Two Months Later
Harry sat in his large, comfortable office chair and looked, expressionlessly, at the man standing in front of him. The man himself was wearing a sharp, impressively tailored robe, the fine fabric and intricate embroidery clearly showing that he had considerable wealth. He also wore a pair of thin, gold-rimmed glasses, which was still rather uncommon in this time period. He was a sorcerer, to be sure. Harry could feel the subtle, but distinct, thrum of magic contained within the man's body. He was nothing particularly impressive, power-wise, but he seemed to have a good, solid amount of control over his abilities, which Harry could, at least, respect. It wasn't always about raw power, after all.
Surrounding the man were several of the new, freshly-trained city guards he had officially hired last month for his growing city. All of them were glaring daggers at the man, and all of them had their hands resting firmly on the hilts of their swords. Harry almost smiled at the thought of them actually trying to take this man down. These men had a month of actual, practical training at most, courtesy of the surprisingly effective, if somewhat brutal, Grogik. They wouldn't even be able to lay a single finger on the sorcerer in front of them.
The sorcerer himself must have realized this too, by now, so Harry assumed the man was being so polite, so cordial, because he either did not yet know the true extent of Harry's power, or he had some inkling of it, and knew better than to piss him off.
"One more time for me," Harry asked the man, his voice calm, almost bored. "Why, exactly, are you here?"
If the sorcerer was annoyed by Harry asking him the same question for the third time, he did not show it. He just nodded his head politely before starting his explanation once again. "Of course, my lord," the man said, his voice smooth and cultured. "My name is Asal. I am a sorcerer, as you can no doubt tell, and I have come to your remarkable city because I had heard… whispers, rumors, of a strange, new city that had been started, impossibly, in the Far North. My own, personal curiosity urged me to come and see this new marvel for myself. I have been exploring your impressive, and quite frankly, unbelievable city for a week now, and I have now come to formally offer my humble services to you, my lord, if you will have me, as is apparently required for all new members of this community, I hear." Asal said, as he bowed slightly at the end, a gesture of deep, formal respect.
Harry blinked once at the man's eloquent, and utterly unbelievable, explanation. He was a spy. That was as clear as day to Harry. The only real question was, for who? He immediately knew it had to be someone with some considerable magical ability, as they would have had to use some form of powerful scrying or divination to even be able to find his magically-concealed city in the first place. The next question, then, was if they were working by themselves, for a convention of magicals, like the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, or for a particular kingdom.
From what his little crow spies had gathered for him recently, the various Northern Kingdoms seemed to have started to turn on their own magical brethren, as well as on all non-humans. And Geralt, he knew, had also been quite busy lately, though thankfully, with no lasting memory of their last, rather informative, conversation.
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