"Classes are running as smoothly as can be expected," Gratham reported, putting down a sheet of paper on the table. Marcus glanced at it as he put aside his cup, turning to the man. Gratham rubbed his hands together as if they were stiff. "Mastery will take time, but your students are motivated. The issues with the Princess' people, on the other hand, continue to compound."
"Our people, Gratham, and what kind of issues?"
"Our people, indeed," the old man conceded, bowing his head. "Our scribes have been received with due respect, but so few wish to learn. Most look to more immediate gratification rather than the future of integration, and though the soldiers are more receptive, that is only the case because of their general."
Marcus hummed. "They have just survived a crossing over the sea. I'd imagine grammar wouldn't be high on my list of priorities either. Keep working at it, and promote more trade. Keep the taxes low and we can associate our language with profit. Promote interaction, lower cultural barriers, you know the drill. We cannot afford more strife, especially not within Loyalists ranks.
"My thoughts exactly, your Grace," Gratham said, smiling. "Your continued maturity is a balm on my old soul."
"Thank you, Gratham. Now tell me of the scribes in the Academy. Between that, teaching Elly's people and the literacy project in Redwater I'd imagine your order is rather busy."
Gratham smiled. "So we are, your Grace, but in truth it is good for them to have proper purpose. I did have to remind some of the more resistant members that you are, in fact, a highly capable mage with the full backing of your father the King, but that is beside the point. Our initiates are busy, our lifetime members are discovering there is more to life than dusty libraries, even I find myself curious on how far your Academy will rise."
"Heartening to hear, Gratham. Now I want your advice on something else. With investments stemming the bleeding of wealth needed for the Academy, I have a promise to keep. I wish to organize four orphanages in the city, capable of housing at least a hundred children each and able to feed four times that many."
The old scribe stroked his well-kept beard. "Assuming you mean full orphans, and those who cannot rely on extended family to provide for them, and also considering we have been at peace for a long time, the number of children you'd be looking to take in could lay in the low thousands. Most uncles, aunts, even friends of the family will usually step up and take care of them - few people can look at an orphan and discard them on the city streets. Those will not require a place. It will take work to gain the trust of the remainder. Those living on the streets."
"The city watch will be collecting those that are too young to take care of themselves," Marcus agreed. "Six and under. I am most sincerely hoping there are not more than four hundred of those in the city, or I'm going to have to take more drastic action. Those over the age of six will be given the option to join, and if they choose against it, will be informed that two full meals will be provided per day."
"Poor families will send their younger children to take advantage of such a program."
Marcus shrugged. "Undoubtedly. The potential for abuse is not a reason to ignore the needs of starving children, however."
"No. No it is not," Gratham said, smiling approvingly. "The cost would not be as great as you might perhaps fear. Staff will need to be hired to run the orphanages, cooks to prepare the meals, the food itself brought to the various locations. I could arrange for someone to approximate the budget?"
"Do so. This is to replace the old system, just to be clear. It's so underfunded and inefficient it might as well not exist, but I've heard there are some passionate volunteers. Bringing them over to the new project would create initial trust."
Gratham rose with a bow, collecting the few papers Marcus indicated and leaving. Marcus liked the old scribe, really. He wasn't someone who he'd ever paid much attention to before, but now? Now he was an ally with aligned goals, mostly centered around ensuring that the Royal Scribes remained prominent.
And it seemed the old man had decided that the more tasks the order actually did, the harder it would be to marginalize them. Which was very true, though Marcus planned to integrate the whole order into the Academy regardless.
Marcus had almost a whole minute to himself before his next appointment knocked on the door, making him put away the notes he'd been taking. His handwriting wasn't great even when he was taking the time, meaning it rather looked like chicken scrawl, but ideas were best put to paper the moment they were had.
Commander Mirre entered after a long moment, saluting as Marcus nodded to her. She put her plain helmet on the table before taking a seat, taking the offered—and watered down—wine with a grateful nod.
"Long morning?"
Mirre grunted. "Yeah. Got woken up two hours before sunrise to deal with a squad of new recruits getting drunk, which I would normally let their officer deal with, but they'd for some reason decided to steal a breeding bull from a nobleman. The paperwork alone kept me busy through breakfast. Then a new company of men finished their training, for which I had to give a speech. And now I had to hurry over and check up on the men I sent to your Academy before our meeting. Long describes my morning quite well."
"No complaints, I hope?" Marcus asked. "Concerning those of your men studying magic, I mean."
"None at all. I have a proposal on how to best utilize their talents. It seems they collaborated on it before handing it over, and I'm glad to report that low-tier summoning alone will make keeping an eye on the city significantly easier. It is a good opportunity."
Marcus hummed. "Good, good. I will be poaching a number of them once their basic training is completed, but that's for another time. You had news about the attempted infiltration of the Academy, yes?"
"Indeed. Marshal Ole was identified to have attempted espionage on the Crown. He, alongside Ponn March, were held back. As you may recall the former was interrogated by both yourself and Lady Vess."
"I do recall. What more did you find out?"
"He was working for the Barons. Baron Denzo, to be specific, though Baroness Soema was undoubtedly involved as their current spokesperson and leader. The Isolationists will deny any involvement, of course, but my more discreet units tracked Marshal's contact successfully. The Baron got sloppy and subsequently caught, though he denies the involvement of any other Barons."
"I see. You had him arrested?"
"Detained pending a full investigation. I brought him with me, in fact, in case you wished to speak to the man yourself."
Marcus smiled appreciatively. "I very much do. Send him in."
Mirre called for her squad, the door opening to present two stone-faced city watchmen escorting the shackled Baron inside. Four Royal Guards followed, taking up positions near his desk. Not so close as to obscure Marcus' vision, but close enough to intervene.
Captain Yonas, for all that the man didn't much care for him, trained his people well. He also trained them to be paranoid, which was why the quartet watched Mirre's guards as closely as they did the disheveled Baron.
The Baron. The man didn't look great, though more so from fear than any rough handling. Mirre looked at the man, apparently not finding anything to be overly impressed with, then turned back to Marcus. "Baroness Soema is on her way, no doubt. Our entrance was not so subtle as to risk rumors of political kidnapping."
"Thank you, Mirre. Get him in a chair, please."
A chair was pushed behind the unreactive Baron, Marcus snapping his fingers when the noble didn't react. He frowned, holding up a hand when one of the city guards prepared to slap the man to attention, and conjured ice-water instead.
Denzo gasped, falling backward into the chair and looking at Marcus with wide eyes. "Good day, Baron Denzo. Can we talk now, or would you prefer to have a proper panic attack first? Attempted espionage on a Crown organization doesn't inspire much sympathy in me, unfortunately, so if you choose the latter option I will be forced to employ some rather heavy handed methods to keep you in the moment."
"I-I can focus," Denzo stuttered, grasping the edge of his seat. The Royal Guards tensed at the motion, though Marcus held up his hand to stall them. He also crafted a shield matrix, because it cost little to be prepared. Denzo shook his head rapidly. "This is a mistake?"
"Which part?"
"I'm not a traitor!" the man all but shouted. An armored hand clamped down on his shoulder, making the irate man look back at the city watchmen. "What?!"
The woman seemed unmoved at his tone. "Do not shout at the Crown Prince."
"Focus on me, Denzo," Marcus said. The Baron did, seeming to calm. "Very good. Now, if you lie to me again I'm going to summon a Hornet Lord and have it poison your blood. It won't kill you - not quickly at least. It will be excruciatingly painful, however long it lasts. Do you think I won't do that?"
It was a shame Vess was busy, but such was life. These sorts of situations were good to practice on his own regardless, but it was nice to have her support. It would have removed the need to threaten the man.
Denzo straightened in his chair. "Soema won't stand for this."
"Stand for what, Denzo? You being interrogated, or you being sloppy enough that there is an interrogation in the first place? Or do you perhaps believe, honestly and truthfully, that she will risk civil war for you?"
"She won't stand for this," Denzo repeated. "I-This is an overreach. You do not have the authority to arrest me."
Marcus sighed. "I dislike having to keep correcting you, Denzo. I do have the authority, I might simply lack the political power. But I don't. Not now that Elly is here alongside her army. I'm going to ask you one last time. Why do you think you are here?"
The Baron clicked his mouth shut, which was the smartest move he'd made since getting arrested. If Mirre had hard evidence she'd have presented it before now, so a confession would be needed to justify true punishment.
Luckily for Denzo, Marcus didn't really care about punishing him. In fact, his political instincts—coached by Vess as they were—insisted this was a good opportunity to put pressure on someone who was actually important.
Marcus picked up his quill, calmly dipping it into ink and starting to write. Making notes on a magical exercise that looked promising, the exact details coming together as he did. Telekinetic matrices could be used to train his multitasking skills, in turn allowing him to potentially stretch his concentration towards the next stage of power.
He'd tried that before, of course, and back then the exercise hadn't strained him enough. But adding a separate exercise on top, such as making small stones weave in complex patterns, might create enough mental pressure to force innovation an-
A knock echoed through the quiet space, the door opening to show a city watchman poking his head inside. Mirre turned to the man. "What?"
"Baroness Soema is here, ma'am. She insists her business is urgent."
Marcus waved his hand. "Let her in, please."
The woman entered, wealth draped over her like a cloak, and all but strode inside with two of her fellow Barons in tow.
All she could assemble on such short notice?
He would have brought more allies as a show of unity, but then he also wasn't willing to guess at her reasoning. Not now. Marcus held up a hand as she moved to speak, finishing his paragraph before setting the quill down.
Soema's dark eyes flickered to Denzo, turning back to Marcus after a moment. "You detained one of my Barons."
"So he is one of yours, Soema?" Marcus asked, curious. He interlaced his fingers on the table, staring at her and letting power flood through his body. It did nothing but make his eyes dance with light, the Baroness seemingly unimpressed. Denzo, however, flinched. "Because if he is, then one of yours attempted to spy on me. On my Academy and those I invited to study there. I find myself unwilling to overlook the insult."
The leader of the Isolationists widened her eyes as if surprised. "An insult? Surely not, my Prince. Whatever young Denzo has done could not possibly have been meant to affront one of such status as yourself."
"So you claim no knowledge of this event?" he asked mildly. Denzo tensed, and for good reason. Soema was beyond his current political power to punish in any significant way, but a lone Baron? One who's agent was caught spying on the Crown, providing testimony within minutes of Vess asking questions? No, the idiot man would be done for. Hanged, or at least stripped of his titles. "And you, Denzo? Did you act alone?"
Soema risked a glare at the young Baron, which made Denzo tense further. Marcus knew the man didn't have many options, of course. Confess and insist he was working alone, which would let Marcus deal with the issue however he saw fit. Confess and insist Soema ordered it, earning him a powerful and vengeful enemy but possible clemency for the act itself. Claim complete ignorance, which would probably be best for him overall but make him look incompetent and throw suspicions on the remainder of his faction. Yet another option that would likely earn him enemies.
He had no good choices, but in the end the man seemed to fear Soema more than he valued his own future. "It was me, alone. I sent the man to gain political advantage within the Academy and to keep myself informed about its progress. I meant no offence."
"Then I hereby fine you one thousand gold pieces, to be delivered to Redwater within the month, alongside the understanding that this is your last warning. Everyone employs spies, Denzo. Don't be this brazen with their use next time." Marcus said, looking at Soema as he did. The woman nodded minutely, the message seemingly having sunk in. "Get him out of my sight."
The city watchmen dragged Denzo away, Soema taking his drenched seat with a far more poised posture. She even ignored the water, which Marcus wasn't sure he'd be able to do. She smiled pleasantly and complimented the spartan decorations of his office, noting how insecure rulers often saw fit to stuff them full of wealth. Ironic.
Marcus made polite noises of agreement, pulling yet another sheet of paper from the corner of his desk. "I wish to get your opinion on something, Baroness Soema."
"I am ever eager to assist the Crown, my Prince."
He turned the paper around, watching her scan it briefly. Her expression didn't flicker, but she knew what it was. The Isolationists had been trying to secure additional rights for lumber extraction on their lands, which they had been fairly successful in doing before Marcus' gentle coup.
Soema lightly offered advice as Marcus went over it, and he suppressed a smile as she reluctantly agreed that a thirty percent increase of the extraction quota was excessive.
He'd have to give back some concessions, of course, but Denzo's failure put her in a weakened position, at least for the moment.
Marcus was more than happy to show her he wasn't shy about pushing back.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Xathar slowed to a halt as Marcus came up to Elly's command tent, fierce looking guards barring his entrance. It was a little annoying to be stopped like that, bringing back some bad memories, but he took a calming breath.
Calm. Calm and patience. You are not a child, nor will you act like one.
The tent flap opened to reveal Elly, another redheaded woman right behind her. Ness, going by Elly's description of her. Elly blinked. "Marcus. You're early."
"My morning meeting wrapped up more quickly than expected. Care to introduce us?"
Elly stepped outside properly, the silent guards giving her space. "Ah, yes. Of course. Ness, Crown Prince Marcus Sepsimus Lannoy. Marcus, Ness. My handmaiden."
"A pleasure, my Prince," Ness said, curtsying. Her eyes flickered to his before looking down. "Elly speaks of you frequently."
Elly stepped towards her own warhorse, effectively and rather rudely cutting off any more talk. Her tone was somewhat panicked, as if Marcus talking with Ness was some great horror. "Shall we?"
Xathar turned without Marcus having to do anything, his balance shifting to accommodate. Elly turned down the main path, hundreds of soldiers saluting as she rode past.
Marcus caught up, Xathar slowing until they could talk. "Who were those guards around your tent? They looked different."
"The- Ah. Would you be terribly insulted if I didn't answer?"
"Not insulted, no," Marcus replied, raising an eyebrow. "Horrifically curious, though. Curious enough to ask someone else, even."
Elly sighed. "They're the Fearless Fourteen. My personal guard."
"The Fearless Fourteen," he repeated, feeling a grin take over his face. "Really?"
She groaned. "I didn't name them, alright? It just kind of stuck. Despite the name, they're good guards. Half of them practice Life Enhancement, all are highly skilled, and they're loyal to the last. I assembled them during- Well. During."
During indeed. Not like he was jumping to share his own trauma-inducing artifact escapade either. She didn't say anything else for a while, Marcus idly noticing a small party following them.
Well, he'd said that he wanted no audience for their spar, but perhaps it was naive to think it would literally be just them. Even for safety reasons it was probably a good idea to send for Margaret, if only to ensure neither of them died.
That would be a highly embarrassing way to go.
A minor messenger summon was conjured and dispatched, Elly looking at it curiously, but Marcus just shrugged. She rolled her eyes. "No one likes mysterious mages."
"It's part of wielding magic," he replied, managing a serious frown. "I took an oath. And yes they do. It's intriguing. Alluring, even."
"And what would you know about allure?"
Marcus shot her a mild, mock glare. "That was uncalled for. I'm not saying you're wrong, but still. Rude. Is that what my life will be? Rudeness and ridicule?"
"That depends," Elly replied, posture growing less tense as they bantered. "A lady can be more forgiving with a man who knows how to wield his sword."
A long moment of silence passed, Marcus offering a helpless shrug. "I have no idea what that means. Not the obvious, clearly, but please keep in mind that I grew up pretty much friendless and locked in my laboratories. Hells, Vess is the only reason I'm as well adjusted as I am."
"And I grew up amongst soldiers, so my humor can be somewhat crude," Elly offered. "I was third in line to the Throne, so there was less pressure. Less expectation. By the time it became clear I would inherit the thing I had already won the loyalty of the army, so no one could really force me to do anything at that point."
Marcus smiled, tone turning self-deprecating. "I ignored responsibility, avoided it like a plague. Got away with it, too, by being good at magic. Really good. I'd imagine you must have the same advantage due to your mastery of Life Enhancement, actually. Personal power. The kind not dependent on anyone or anything else."
"It has its benefits," Elly confirmed, nodding towards the open plains. They'd been riding for a little while, though Marcus could already see Vess. Great. Of course she'd somehow learned where they were planning to hold their spar. "Now come, I wish to prove my martial superiority."
Marcus complied, or rather Xathar did, but either way, they sped up. Left their trailing companions in the dust, coming to a stop after a few more minutes of hard riding. Vess stepped aside to dodge the cloud of debris, taking one look at Elly before turning to Marcus.
"I've finished combing the Academy for spies, and we're all clear. I'm not infallible, but it's likely as good as we're going to get. Now go fight with your future wife before her emotions boil over and we have a political incident on our hands."
Elly's on edge?
He hadn't noticed that. He did now, kind of, but she appeared quite good at hiding it. Marcus nodded, dismounting and seeing Xathar walk up to Vess' side from the corner of his eye.
Xathar grumbled, speaking as Marcus moved away. "The bush mage will die. She is too strong, too hardened and too experienced. She is a mage killer."
Marcus didn't hear Vess' reply, taking a calming breath as his standard defense package snapped into place. He forewent environmental protection to free up a matrix, it being unlikely she was going to attack with heat, though that did mean he would have to be careful about using elemental spells.
He approached Elly, stopping when there were only twenty or so feet between them. "Does this distance seem fair?"
"Sure," she replied, not seeming to care. "Try to avoid killing blows, but otherwise I'd appreciate it if you went hard. It's been a while since I've fought."
"Same. I have a healer en route, but I get the feeling that you don't want to wait."
Elly's eyes flickered to Vess, which he found a little insulting. "I do not, no. But I would be willing to."
"No need. Please, begin when ready."
She made a show of pulling the bow from where it was secured on her horse, considering a moment, then pulling an arrow. Marcus raised his eyebrow as she prepared to nock it, wondering why she thought he wouldn't just roll away the moment she'd let go of th-
The arrow was nocked, drawn and released so fast he didn't even have time to blink, impacting his shield with the force of a boulder. It strained but held, digging greedily into his reserves as he mentally traced its path.
Over my shoulder. Well, at least she's not out to kill me. "My turn."
The elemental matrix was weaved, aimed and powered up in a moment, the head-sized rock flying at her torso. Elly moved aside rather easily, throwing the bow away. Not because she couldn't use it, he assumed, but because there was little fun in shooting someone over and over until they died.
She moved, Marcus spending the moment he had to imprint a rune on the ground. Elly either didn't notice or didn't care, but the moment she stepped on it the ground ruptured. Wind blasted forth like an unending storm, picking her up and flinging her back.
Marcus felt his reserves drain further as he stepped behind a nearby boulder, ducking low to take cover. Then Elly was back, recovering faster than should be possible, and her fist lashed out to strike at his side despite her scrapes and quickly forming bruises.
His shield sparked, the blow possessing enough energy to shatter bone. Marcus stepped into the blow, the mace at his side snapping into his hand. He raised it to strike at her, bringing it down to find no one there. He grunted as a foot snapped out to kick him, the inertia dampeners almost draining more power than the shield did.
A telekinetic tendril connected to a nearby tree, sending himself flying towards it. She could have ended it then and there, Marcus knew, because by the time he was halfway there she was already back on her feet.
Instead she looked at him with a strange expression, as if she couldn't believe he was still alive. Marcus took advantage of that without shame or delay, letting his inertia damping matrix drop to have two spells to work with.
Both matrices were used to carve shielding runes into the air, overlapping and spherical. Elly moved the moment he did, somehow noticing the distortions in the air, but she couldn't build up enough speed. One shield was destroyed, the second remained intact.
Marcus focused, straining against the rune to take manual control. The shield tightened, shrinking as Elly slammed her sword against it. It held, barely, and she didn't get a second attempt. The translucent barrier enclosed around her to the point she was forced to crouch, Marcus preparing to let go.
Then her sword started shining, a green light wrapping around it, and it carved through the shield like it was made of paper. Marcus moved before she did, only just about managing to put a tree between himself and his happy-looking betrothed.
He took the moment where she couldn't see him to weave a double water matrix, blasting her in the face when she came into view. Elly dodged, ducking to the side, but he adjusted his aim and it still clipped her shoulder. She was thrown back, her body twisting in mid-air to land against a tree feet first.
Elly grinned. It was a teeth filled, eager expression that made Marcus duck behind the tree again, adding inertia dampening back to his shield.
That might have been a mistake.
The matrix was powered after not even a full second, but before it could be linked to his shield she slammed into him. Marcus was sent flying, impacting a tree before landing on the ground. Dirt and leaves flew everywhere as he carved a groove into the dirt, his magical reserves dipping below a quarter.
Definitely a mistake.
He climbed to his feet, unharmed but disoriented. Elly was there in a moment, a non-shining sword screaming towards his face. Marcus acted before he could think, snapping a very different kind of matrix around himself.
Space twisted and the sword slowed, Marcus skipping back as Elly withdrew her weapon. She moved around the distortion with rather extreme care, Marcus twisting it wider to block her path.
A spark. Time seemed to slow as Marcus took manual control over space, pitting his own willpower against a fundamental force of the universe. It lasted a timeless moment as reality buckled and his mind achieved dominance over space, the entire area rippling and twisting.
Then it was over, and Marcus staggered backwards as pain lanced through his skull. Elly moved closer, sword at the ready, and Marcus shot three tracking-enhanced force missiles at her.
She dodged, he carved a rune into the mud to thicken the air, but his heart wasn't in it. Elly seemed to realize that moments later, slowing as blood started to drip from his eyes.
"Shit," she cursed, sheathing her sword and warily watching the calming ripples in space. "Hold up, I'll get your healer."
Marcus didn't reply, pitching his nose up as that started bleeding too. A headache split his skull open, and when he managed to focus again he saw Elly had returned with more than just Margaret.
The older healer put a glowing hand against his bleeding eyes, which would have been awkward if he hadn't been in horrendous pain, and he heard Vess mutter to herself. The succubus spoke up properly a moment later, though Marcus wasn't sure if it was aimed at him.
"What happened?"
Elly spoke with a somewhat panicked air to her tone. "I don't know! We were sparring, I threw him halfway through a tree without so much as a scratch on him, then space started twisting and he's bleeding from his eyes."
"I pushed a little too hard. I'm fine." Marcus said, managing a calm tone. Margaret clicked her tongue in disagreement, though she didn't speak. Marcus put up a hand. "Really, I'm fine. There was… Well, there was something when I twisted space. A spark of connection. I'm not sure."
Margaret removed her hand from his eyes, Marcus seeing a brief look of fascination on Vess' face before it vanished. The succubus shook her head, ponytail swinging freely. "You used spatial manipulation in a fight. Foolish. There's a reason that is reserved for laboratories and carefully designed experimentation. Altering a universal truth is not something that should be done in moments of high stress."
"I wasn't thinking clearly," Marcus agreed. "It won't happen again."
Vess tilted her head again. "I didn't say that. You managed it without killing yourself. Just practice some basic, standard moves beforehand so you can use them reflexively in battle."
"I threw you through a tree," Elly said, looking at it. She showed her arm, a purple bruise forming. "You aren't even hurt. Not beyond whatever you did to yourself. Life Enhancement doesn't actually make me any tougher than a regular human, but neither are magical shields supposed to be that strong. Or to allow you to absorb impacts and damage instead of merely the latter."
Marcus shrugged. "I told you, I'm not like the mages you're familiar with. But you would have won had we continued, that I'm sure of. I was running on a quarter of my reserves near the end, which says a lot about the strength of your blows. Had you used your sword's enchantment you would likely have carved through easily enough."
"And had you carved an explosion matrix instead of an air-trap into the ground at the start of the fight, I would be dead," Elly replied, giving him a look he couldn't decipher. "We should do this again sometime."
He groaned as another wave of pain lanced through his skull, deciding that sitting down sounded heavenly right about now. "Yeah. Sometime."
Margaret moved towards Elly and started healing her wounds too, mostly bruises and scrapes, and Marcus decided a nap sounded even more heavenly still.