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As the sun crested in the east, Erick gazed down upon desert sand through the many eyes of his Ophiel. The land was a blackened, burning stretch of soil, where mimic corpses burned right alongside spider bodies. Erick adjusted the wind, but instead of returning the breeze to the northerly wind common to Spur, he turned the wind off, while sending up a cascading white orb to reveal the survivors of his fire tornadoes. Quite a lot of blue dots appeared on the resulting map.  

Erick was not responsible for the safety of the city when it came to all threats. The Guard existed for a reason. He was here on garbage duty, taking care of the largest piles of garbage, and mostly because he wanted to; these were his kills, after all.

With ten Ophiel and kilometers upon kilometers of spider bodies, and the occasional mimic, it was an easy sort of necessary job. Erick blew together corpses, then ignited them with [Cleansing Flame]. But [Cleansing Flame] dealt no damage, so while most corpses burned under phosphorous white fire, occasionally, white spiders walked out of the flame, unhurt. They were tiny things, but they were still deadly.

Erick threw [Force Bolt]s at them until they died. It took a few bolts to kill them, but both Erick and Ophiel ran [Hunter’s Instincts], and they had the map revealing the location of every spider, so the threat of any of them getting through the cleanup was very, very small.

As white fire passed through burnt, desiccated corpses, small spiders weren’t the only things to drop onto the sand. Glittering rads began to litter the Crystal Forest floor, in the wake of the fires. Glittering Jewels also littered the desert, picking up rads and attaching them to their bodies with expert telekinetic control. There was a lot to pick up, and a lot of the rads were a lot closer together than usual, so Jewels worked pretty fast, compared to how he worked when the corpses were tens of meters apart and he had to tear into the bodies to retrieve the rads himself.

(Apparently Jewels was a boy, according to Erick’s anthropomorphizing instincts.)

Erick asked Poi about delivering most of the rads to the bank, and Poi had delivered. Soon, piles and piles of rads were blipping into his account, but after the first hundred thousand rads, which was around 500,000 gold, or a million mana, Erick began diverting the wealth into his home. He needed resources for all of his upcoming enchantment experiments, after all.

Ophiels delivered rads to an empty room in Erick’s house, on the ground floor, gradually filling up a 3 meter by 2 meter room, one load of glittering loot at a time.

Kiri looked at the filling room, and said, “Uh. Erick. This is… extravagant.”

Erick looked in at the room with her. It was about a third full. He had to raise a stone divider in the doorway so that the pile wouldn’t spill out into the rest of the house. He offered, “I think I destroyed half of the rads. So it won’t be as bad as—”

An Ophiel blipped in, depositing a goodly pile of rads onto the sea of glittering white light. He blipped away, back to the battlefield.  

“Okay.” Kiri said, “Uh… Let me recalculate.” She thought for a moment, then continued, “A single 10 mana rad is a little over 2 centimeters square. Almost all of the ones out there are this size. You can fit about 61,000 of those into a cubic meter. Ophiel has filled this place with about 6 square meters of rads already. Which means around 350,000 rads. Fully filling this room would mean placing over a million rads into this space. But since you killed over 2.5 million spiders... Or rather, half that for actual takeaway...” She paused. She said, “I think you’re gonna need a bigger room. Slightly bigger?”

Poi spoke up, “Taxes.”

Kiri nodded, saying, “That would get rid of a lot of it.”

Erick said, “I still have four months on that!”

Poi shrugged, smirking a little.

Another Ophiel blipped in, adding to the pile. It sounded like dumping ice onto ice.

Kiri said, “Whatever the case, piling them in a room is not a solution.”

Poi smiled slightly wider, saying, “Other cities are calling for your aid now that they can see what you can do. This ‘problem’ is only going to get worse.” He added, “The bank says they’re willing to take more rads, but you’re going to need to upgrade your account if you plan on doing stuff like this. They have protocols for archmage hauls, and they would like for you to avail yourself of their proper services.”

Erick did not miss the joy Poi took in calling ‘too much money’ a problem. Oh, what a problem to have! It was not lost on Erick how silly it was to fret over this money, but this much loot did place yet another target on his back. He certainly did not need this much loot in his house, or anywhere near his person. Erick gazed upon his pile of basically-gold, and wondered if this was why the archmages in Jane’s games always made big dungeons. To keep their too-much loot somewhere safe?

Another Ophiel dropped another pile of glittering rads into the room.

… Erick could make a dungeon. It would even be fine if it got looted by intrepid adventurers, as long as they didn’t take too much. He couldn’t just make one big dungeon, for precisely that reason…

He would have to make several dungeons in several locations, preferably in hard to reach places.

But.  

No.  

Not today. He had a much better use of these rads than sticking them in the ground somewhere. Right now, it wasn’t yet noon. That meant there was plenty of time to organize a lot of the rads out there into 1000 mana stone boxes, to exchange them for darkchips…

It was a plan, of a sort.  

“Okay, so.” Erick said, “This is what I’m going to do. We’re going to turn in what’s still out there for darkchips.”

He outlined a plan, and got to work. Kiri helped, making the process go a lot smoother. He let this third room fill with rads, which should be more than enough to enchant with, for now, then he started having Ophiel [Stoneshape] appropriately sized boxes out of sand.  

Soon, Erick had a multitude of stone boxes, each with an interior cavity measuring 14x14x10 centimeters. He lined the boxes in rows upon rows, out in the field. They were about the right size to ensure that a full box was about 100 rads, and that was about perfect—

Oh! There was a fun idea. [Flight of a Thousand Hands] was literally 1000 telekinetic, airy hands. On a whim, Erick controlled an exact 100 of the hands and grabbed exactly 100 rads. He put them in a box, and the box was perfectly full, if a little below the top. Erick smiled to himself. This way was much easier than counting out 100 at a time. He wasn’t going to count out 100 at a time, anyway; that’s why he made the stone boxes the correct size. But it was nice to know his calculations were correct.  

These rads were worth 10 mana each, for a total worth of 1000 mana per box of 100. Each box was also worth 500 gold. Turning in grand rads to Candlepoint would be a lot easier, since there was no need to count anything, but none of the spiders had any of those, and grand rads were worth literally twice as much for the same amount 1000 mana that existed in one of these stone boxes. So Erick wasn’t going to be doing that.

Grand rads were worth 1000 mana and 1000 gold, flat rate, no matter their size, mainly because they were all variant sizes, shapes, and technical worths, but they were also the only rads that could regenerate their size and mana if left alone long enough. Smaller rads got used up when they were used to recharge magical items, like rods of [Treat Wounds] and [Prestidigitation] stoves. But grand rads could be set beside those same magical items to recharge the rads in those items, with only a little bit of destabilization themselves. That destabilization would recover with time, too. Even right now, Erick had at least three rods of [Treat Wounds] in various parts of the house, nestled beside grand rads, recharging.

Hardly anyone actually used grand rads for anything but currency or keeping their magical items functional, but all grand rads, no matter their size, regenerated their mana at the same rate, which was about 1 mana every minute. Hence their flat rate.  

 Erick wasn’t sure he agreed with the economics of that, but that’s what society did, so Erick participated how society declared he could participate. He was absolutely sure that if he went around looking for buyers or looking for sellers in the less up-and-up markets of the world, that he could get around the 1000gold flat rate. But who had time for that, right now? Besides, Erick was dealing with 10 mana rads, and those were a flat 5 gold. Erick was absolutely sure that he could never get around that price; it seemed rather set in stone.

… Erick turned his attention back toward the stone boxes sitting out in the desert. Jewels had been dumping stones into the boxes without care for precision, so Erick had Ophiel Handy Aura smooth out the count. Ophiel quickly got the hang of using Erick’s 100 hand Handy Aura trick. He was a smart little [Familiar], for sure.

Hours passed, as Erick’s assembly line of summons did more work than Erick would have ever done himself. Seriously. This was pure grunt work. Thank the gods for summons.

When the corpses were gone and the rads were all collected, Erick ended up with 121 rows of 100 boxes, each box filled with 100 rads. The small field of boxes took up roughly 18 meters by 14 meters of space.

Over 1-point-2 million rads! 12.1 million mana! 12,100 darkchips! Theoretically.  

Sunset was still several hours away, though, so Erick couldn’t just leave his loot sitting out in the open. So with a bit of blipping, [Stoneshape]ing, and [Prismatic Ward]ing, Erick dropped the rads off in another location, closer to Candlepoint, but not too close. They were certainly out of sight, though.

 Once that was done, Erick went on to the next project: The corpses and rads and everything else he had left out in front of Kal’Duresh. He had been a bit distracted when he was completing that job, what with Al and the Ballooning Spider attack on Spur happening at the same time. He had left that job mostly unfinished. If people had stolen from the piles of half-[Cleansing Flame]d corpses, he didn’t really care, but he was still going to get his gold while he could.  

He had Poi contact the Baroness’s people, and they cleared Erick for action. He immediately set out cleaning up the rest of his spider-tornado mess. Soon, Ophiels were blowing scattered piles of bodies into bigger piles, while spreading white flames, as quartz Jewels gathered glittering prizes from the sand. When all was said and done, the math proved that some people had stolen from the pile. Erick only ended up with another 615,000 rads out of 2 million spider kills, but that was okay. Erick didn’t need the money, but he did put the extra 15,000 rads into the rad room of his house, to make his deposit at Candlepoint a nice, round number. His total expected darkchip return bloomed to 18,100. If his count was a bit off, that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if Candlepoint disputed his count too much, either.

He certainly didn’t care about the prizes of Candlepoint. But maybe he should? He could get something, maybe? Eh. They were all traps. Best not to touch those sorts of things.  

Erick paused, sitting in his library, while reading about weather and enchanting, and simultaneously organizing Ophiels and Jewels. He looked up at nothing in particular, and said, “I need to speak to the Mage Trio before I deliver these rads.”

As if the universe decided to compound his workload, Poi stepped to the door to the library. He said, “Guildmaster Fork Oreellico sends word that the paperwork is done on his end, and they’re ready to talk Spatial magic.”

Erick looked from his open books, to Poi. “… What?”

“I told you about them this morning?”

Erick chuckled and sighed at the same time. “A little multitasking is a good thing, but my gods.”

“Shall I inform them you are busy?”

“No. I can meet them now. I have, what? Three hours till sunset? If they think it’s going to last longer than that, I need to reschedule.”

Poi nodded, then looked to the air. Tendrils of intent radiated from his head, into the manasphere. After a moment, he turned to Erick. “They can make it quick. They have a primer to go over. An initial talk might take an hour or so. More can be planned later.”

Erick Handy Aura’d his books away, then got up, saying, “Let’s go.”

- - - -

The first floor of the Wayfarer’s Guildhouse was a large open area of blue tile and people either delivering goods, picking up goods, or Wayfarers blipping in or out, guiding large groups of people to their next destination. Erick had learned about the Wayfarers in his time learning about Spatial Magic, and almost every one of them could [Teleport] anywhere from ten to twenty times as far as he could, with the basic [Teleport] spell. These people blipping in and out were truly coming from other cities on Glaquin; they were not simply at the end of their multiple thousand kilometer blip journeys.

Erick was slightly jealous, but he liked Particle Mage too much to ever give it up. He was a Particle Mage, through and through.

The second floor of the Guildhouse was full of stock and boxes and shipments, going wherever they were going, either in the hands of individuals, or on large [Teleporting Platforms], like Erick’s own. The Guildmaster’s office was on this floor, but when Erick showed up to the Guildhouse, his mauvescaled guide took him up the stairs, past the second floor, onto the third floor.  

The third floor was full of dormitories. Erick didn’t spend much time here; just long enough for his guide to tell him what he was looking at, as he peered down a hallway filled with doors.

The fourth floor was full of classrooms. Erick’s guide showed him past a few rooms where chalkboards were full of maths of differing difficulty. In some rooms, teachers taught handfuls of students the easier math, while in others, graduate kids went over their own, much more complicated formulae. The mauvescale left Erick, Poi, Kiri, and Teressa, at the large, open doors to a decently appointed, windowless room. An oval table with a wooden top occupied half of the space, while three people and their chalkboards occupied the other half.  

Erick recognized Guildmaster Fork, the brownscale son of Apogee, but he was wearing what looked like formal robes. His clothes were sky blue, and well made. Erick felt a pang of self consciousness, because the other two people in the room were also wearing the same type of high quality robes as Fork. One was an incani man of dark grey skin and horns, while the other was a brown skinned human man. Both of the new people both looked to be in their 50s. Erick’s mauvescale guide stepped back, and excused herself, as the three people in the room looked at Erick.  

Fork said with a smile, “Welcome, Archmage Flatt. Do come in.”

Erick walked in, saying, “Hello, Guildmaster Oreellico.” He looked to the other two people. “Hello...”

Fork gestured to the incani man, saying, “Guildmaster Rexarix, of Bend, of Old Kingdom of the Wasteland Kingdoms.”  

Erick said, “Hello,” as Rexarix bowed slightly, saying, “Greetings.”

Fork gestured to the human, saying, “Guildmaster Fieldsmith, of Odaali.”

Erick smiled wide, exclaiming, “Odaali?! Heeey! Hello! How’s it going in Odaali?”  

Fieldsmith smirked a little, then spoke with a deep, resonant voice, “Much better now that the city isn’t full of killer plants. The reconstruction efforts have returned the city to its former glory, but our populace will still take decades to recover.”

The levity of the moment rapidly passed, as Erick suddenly recognized a dissonance. There was a human and an incani, ostensibly from other sides of the war, standing next to each other. In the same room. Without killing each other? Erick couldn’t help himself; he looked to the incani man, trying to understand. Everyone noticed.  

Fork frowned a little. Fieldsmith raised his eyebrows, as he banished a smirk from his face.

Rexarix paused for a second, then said, “Oh. You don’t know?” He glanced down to the silver star on Erick’s chest, saying, “Bend and the Wayfarer’s Guild have always been strong opponents of the Quiet War. After the Daydropper Massacre, Bend was the first Kingdom to step forward and ask for open discussions with the Republic. It is my understanding that your [Zone of Peace] was instrumental in ensuring that such a talk could happen, at all. Thank you for that. You prevented the loss of a great many lives.”

“Oh.” Erick felt like an ass. He tried to keep that emotion off of his face, but likely failed. “Ah. Yeah. I did not know that.” He added, “Pardon my ignorance. I don’t know a lot about geography or history.” Erick tried a joke, “My schooling was not exactly local.”

“Understandable.” Rexarix spoke with levity in his voice, saying, “My schooling was quite distant as well, but not as distant as yours.”  

Erick smiled. Okay. This was good. Rexarix seemed nice. Social faux pas successfully brushed over!

Fieldsmith spoke up, “Bend and the Guild have always been opponents of the Quiet War, but I’m also partially representing Odaali. We wish to move past this nastiness, so even if this [Gate] project fails, we will have been working with the other side in a positive manner, which is almost a win.”

Rexarix nodded.

“Oh?” Erick said, taken aback. “Are you… suggesting that there’ll be a [Gate] between…?” He looked back and forth between the human and the incani, unsure how to even finish his question.

“Not yet.” Fieldsmith said, “Maybe after a hundred years of peace.”

“The idea is for smaller, national-only [Gate] systems, for a while.” Rexarix said, “In order to appease parties that are not here, a neutral Wayfarer Guildmaster of a Republic branch and a Kingdom branch have been tagged to ensure that neutrality remains intact, and the scope remains small throughout all stages of this theoretical [Gate] system.” He added, “But we have to create the [Gate] first!”

Erick smiled. “That would be useful, yes.”

Fork gestured toward the chairs, near the table, asking, “Let us sit?” He looked past Erick, to the doors of the room, where Teressa, Poi, and Kiri stood. “We’ll put up sound barriers, too, but these secrets are not to be shared.”

Erick had already expected this sort of pressure from this meeting, so he played along how he had already instructed his people to play along. “I doubt any of them would speak of any of this, but Teressa? Can you stay outside?” Teressa nodded, then stepped outside of the room, while Erick continued, “Kiri knows a lot more of your magic, and will be able to help me understand more of this conversation, later.” He added, “Poi hardly ever speaks.”

Fork said, “I must insist.”

Erick frowned. He had hoped that Kiri could stay, but that looked to be too much. He said, “Poi will stay.”

Fork nodded, while Rexarix and Fieldsmith gave silent assents. Erick turned to Kiri. The young greenscale did her best not to pout, as she walked out of the room. She closed the door behind her. When it clicked shut, and the casual sounds of the rest of the building muted somewhat, Fork raised his hand, spilling magic into the room. The walls took a shimmer to them, and the rest of the world went dead silent. [Silent Ward]s were weird. Hearing nothing but the tiny sounds of those in the room was slightly unnerving. Ophiel, sitting on Erick’s shoulder, twittered a bit with tiny flute sounds, disliking the silence.  

Fork gestured to the seats again. This time, the four of them sat down, while Poi stood to the side of the room, playing the part of furniture.  

Fork said, “A lot more people are tagged to be involved in this, if it happens. Renarix and Fieldsmith are here for who they are, in addition to who they may come to represent. The politics involved in this are going to be the stuff of nightmares, Archmage Flatt.”  

Fieldsmith said, “When there’s no fruit on the trees, no one argues over ownership. But we hope for fruit, so the arguing has already begun.”

Erick said, “I hope to not be too involved in all of that.”

Rexarix said, “You likely won’t.”

“Hopefully not,” agreed Fieldsmith.

Erick nodded, then he said, “So. [Gate]. No one actually knows how the spell works? Everyone who has ever had it has gotten the spell through spending some amount of points on the Class Ability? Do I have that right?”

Fork and Fieldsmith spoke at the same time, saying, “Yes,” and “As far as I know.”

Rexarix said, “Broadly. Yes.” As the other two turned to Rexarix, Rexarix took the lead, saying, “We have several people in our organization who are on the Quest, but almost no one makes it to the end. And then, even if you make it to the actual Quest, it costs 10 points to buy, or the completion of an impossible task. Getting to that Quest is a whole extra matter, too. The Quest Chain begins with [Teleport Object]. This is of a middling difficulty, but you cannot use the one in the Script, and if you fail to make it properly, then the next part of the Quest is locked to you forever. Because then you need [Teleport Other]. This is exceedingly difficult, with only the best Wayfarers or Spatial Mages able to achieve such a skill. Some people find themselves incapable of creating both, locked, as it were, to one or the other. But if you make it past this hurdle, then you must either deepen your understanding of Spatial magic, or some other trigger happens, and you get the [Gate] Quest.” He huffed a little, adding, “Which is just infuriating. No one knows what the trigger for the Quest is, exactly. And that’s only part of the problem.” He looked to Fieldsmith. “The book?”

Fieldsmith curved his hand through the air, with a quick, practiced motion, pulling a book out of some other place. It was a light tome, maybe a handspan square, an inch thick, with a plain black cover. He said, “A collected volume of [Gate] wielders of the Wayfarer’s Guild, and how they achieved [Gate].” He held the book tightly in one hand, while he said, “This is a very dangerous book. Not only because of [Teleport Other], as a necessary part of getting [Gate], but because it lays out all of our most secret methodologies. But, it has no actual maths, so it’s practically useless to almost everyone.”

When Fieldsmith mentioned ‘no maths’, Erick felt as though the world opened for him. This was perfect.

Erick said, “Perfect. Let’s crack open that book.”

The room was already silent, but at Erick’s words, no one else spoke. Rexarix raised an eyebrow, while Fork turned stern, shifting his gaze from the incani to the other human in the room.  

Fieldsmith said, “I feel… that I would be killing you by giving you this book. But that is not true, is it?”

Erick looked to Fork. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I did,” Fork said, casually. “But if you could please show them your notification for the Blink and the Teleport Quests, that would go a long way to showing them that they won’t be indirectly responsible for murdering an archmage through brute-forced Spatial Magic.”

They wanted those notifications? Those notifications… 6 or 7 million kill notifications ago? Erick thought at the air for a moment, trying to bring up a notification that far in the past, but nothing came to him. Uh.  

Erick paused. He sent to Poi, ‘How do I…?’

Poi replied, ‘A small prayer to Rozeta.’

Erick did as such. His notifications popped up in front of him. Easy! Thank the gods— or rather, thank Rozeta. He showed those notifications to the two people who had not seen them yet. It was then, that whatever tension had held in the air began to fade, to turn into something nice; happier. Fieldsmith smiled, then chuckled. Rexarix grinned wide, revealing sharp incisors.  

Fork chided them, “I told you.”

“And I am sorry for not believing!” Fieldsmith said, exuberant. “My gods. This could actually happen. Brute forcing Spatial Magic! Unheard of!” He set the book down on the table and pressed it toward Erick, saying, “Bless the harvest,” as he momentarily bowed his head.

Fork did the same head-bow. Rexarix did not. If Erick wasn’t mistaken, Fork and Fieldsmith seemed to be devout Atunites. Erick filed that information away, as he picked up the book.  

He asked, “I’m taking this book with me, correct?”

“Yes.” Rexarix pointed at the book in Erick’s hands, saying, “But be aware: that book will kill someone if you let it be stolen, and then it will continue to kill the foolish long after its first victim is scattered to the winds. Every time one of these books is stolen, the same thing happens. I do not speak in false warnings.”

Erick looked at the book in his hands. It felt heavier, somehow. He said, “Oookaaay. I see.”

“I am sure it will be fine!” Fieldsmith smiled, as he said, “We will be brute forcing [Gate]!” He laughed, his voice a deep rumble, before he joked, “I expect results in a month!”

Rexarix said, “We shouldn’t get carried away by the tempest.”

Fieldsmith tempered his smile to a subdued joy, as he said, “Of course.” He smirked, adding, “But when you have an archmage that controls the sky, what is wrong with joining the breeze?”

“We are not here for that, Fieldsmith,” Rexarix said. “Please stay on track.”

Fork asked, “So, Archmage? Where would you like to begin?”

Erick weighed the book in his hands, then set it down, and asked, “I’ll read this later, but for now: Everyone here has much more knowledge of what we’re getting into than I. Let us begin with each other’s experiences with creating [Teleport Object], or [Teleport Other], or how far you have gotten with the [Gate] Quest, and what it actually entails?” He added, “I’ll go first with my recreation of [Blink] and [Teleport].”

Erick spoke for a short while, surprising Fieldsmith and Rexarix with his trial-and-error approach to [Blink], but only in the fact that it had worked at all. Among those in the know, which included many of those in the higher echelons of the Wayfarer Guild, Erick’s methodology of wardlights and trial-and-error had killed many young Spatial Mages over the vast, 1400 years of the Wayfarer’s Guild’s history.  

Erick explained how his experience recreating [Teleport] was a surreal experience, where he briefly had more Ophiel out there in the world than he had summoned. Even now, Erick wasn’t quite sure how many there had been, but it was definitely more than he actually conjured.

Rexarix and Fieldsmith listened, deep in thought.  

Fieldsmith spoke, “My creation of [Teleport] was about as difficult as anyone’s, with the usual methods outlined in the book we have given you. My particular experience involved flipping a coin and going to the beach, only to find that I should have gone to the market instead.”  

“Mine was what I wanted to make for breakfast; going fishing for fish, or making hotcakes,” said Rexarix.

Fieldsmith nodded, continuing, “I completed [Teleport Object] in the usual way, back in my 30s. [Teleport Object] is broadly considered the line that separates most Wayfarers from the greats, because this is where the Elemental Body skills are used unconventionally, and with slight difficulty.

“For me, using [Air Body], I am able to spread my senses far outside of my own mortal shell. I am sure that you have noticed the same when you are using your [Lightwalk]. And I am sure you have noticed that you can remain clothed, or have small items on you when you assume your other form. This next part of Spatial Magic involves taking much larger pieces of other objects into your Elemental Body, and doing to them what you did to move yourself through the manasphere.”

Erick flinched in surprise. “It’s that easy?”

Fieldsmith smiled. “No. A failure of this action is [Partial Teleport], but this is one of the most devastating, harmful [Teleport] spells one is capable of creating. A warning, though: If you make [Partial Teleport], the creation of such a magic will soak into all the other Spatial Magic you manage to create...” He paused. He said, “Uh. Usually. Most of us work our Spatial magic through extensive maths, and because of this, when we fail and create a [Partial Teleport], it means we have failed somewhere along the way. A correction of maths and understanding eliminates [Partial Teleport].  

“But the creation of the spell itself proves to be a problem. Almost everyone who chooses to keep [Partial Teleport] locks themselves to this path of incomplete understanding. Even if they do manage to fix their maths and create [Teleport Object] down the line, the taint of [Partial Teleport] crops up from time to time. Thus, we always instruct young Wayfarers into petitioning a Registrar to remove any [Partial Teleport] spells they manage to accidentally create.”

While Rexarix and Fork casually nodded, or had nothing to say about Fieldsmith’s words, Erick was confused. Why would you need a Registar to remove a spell created from another spell? Or. Wait. Fieldsmith hadn’t mentioned using [Teleport] to create [Teleport Object], or even the failed version of [Partial Teleport], had he?

In an oddity of the Script that Erick had never looked too deeply into, [Blink] and [Teleport] were both Basic Tier magic. In the recreation of both spells, he recognized that the two spells were vastly different from each other, enough that going from one to the other was, of course, not just an increase in tier. There was a qualitative difference that separated ‘following the mana to another location just over yonder’ from ‘adjusting a decision made earlier in the day’.  

In addition to all that, Erick had already suspected, and been told as much by Fork long before today, that [Gate] was also Basic Tier magic.  

Erick asked, “Is all Spatial Magic Basic Tier?”

“Yes,” Rexarix said, slightly smiling. “No extra points, though. What you’re famous for is not what Spatial Mages do. We don’t go around creating new basic spells.”

Fork said. “[Teleporting Platform]s and such are offshoots of Basic Tier. But [Blink], [Teleport], the proper [Teleport Object] and not the one after [Teleport], [Teleport Other], and [Gate], are all Basic Spells; each one qualitatively different than the previous.”

“My colleagues are correct.” Fieldsmith said, “Just like how each qualitatively different Force spell is laid out there, available for anyone to purchase, Spatial Magic is locked behind true mastery of the subject.” He shrugged. “That’s our collective theory, anyway.”

Erick asked, “But why is there a [Teleport Object] in the Script, past [Teleport]?”

Rexarix said, “You can get explosions out of [Force Bolt] by Mana Altering for explosions, but it is not the same as [Force Bomb].” He added, “[Force Platform] out of [Force Wall]. [Stoneshape] out of [Telekinesis]. The list goes on.”

“Okay.” Erick said, “Yes. I can see what you’re saying… But it’s still surprising.” He asked, “Is all magic this way? Does all magic come from the application of an Elemental Body?”

Fieldsmith sat back in his chair, contemplating. “I’ve always thought so, though I never managed anything except for a few Spatial Magics.”

Rexarix shook his head. “Highly doubtful.” He looked to Erick. “From my understanding you are able to sing at the sky and create new magic. This very act disproves the Elemental Body as the progenitor of magic theory.” He added, “There’s also Blood Magic, and Soul Magic, as paths to Basic Spell recreation. I’m sure there’s more, but those are not my areas of expertise.”

Fork said, “There is some truth to the Elemental Bodies as the basis for much of magic. After all, almost all Wayfarer Spatial Magic is created through the use of [Air Body], while the Force line of spells can be created through any kind of Elemental Body… Theoretically. I haven’t had much luck with that, myself.”

Fieldsmith said, “Yup.”  

Rexarix just nodded.

Fork said, “And while this facet of the Elemental Bodies is crucial to understanding and recreating Spatial Magic, it is not, exactly, why we are here.”

“Quite.” Renarix said, “We can discuss whatever needs to be discussed, take some breaks, and come back later, when we must. We’re all busy people.”

Fieldsmith said, “I’ll agree to that.”

Erick nodded, then asked, “Back to [Teleport Object], then? Or rather, [Teleport Other]?”

Fork and Fieldsmith turned to Rexarix.

Rexarix said, “My colleague Fieldsmith has managed to do a lot with [Teleport Object], taking the spell to great heights, tagging objects with a spell imprint for later retrieval. Hence, why he was charged with care for the book you now possess.” He said, “My own experiences are closer tied to [Teleport Other].” He continued, “To condense dense spell formulae down to a few short words, what you do, is attune your own Elemental Body to another’s natural existence, and then you move them. But there is a catch. [Teleport] is an intrinsically non-harmful spell. If a [Teleport] would harm a caster, it doesn’t work how the caster wants it to work. Keeping this nature throughout the entirety of your endeavors into Spatial Magic is generally the best idea a Spatial Mage can have, for in doing this, you turn your Spatial Magic into something closer to healing magics, that works even on those unable to give their consent.

“And then there’s the process of attuning your magic to the magic of another, or adjusting their magic to your magic. Or meeting in the middle.” He gestured to the book in Erick’s hands. “The three various methods are outlined in there. Each one is difficult to achieve, because in attuning yourself to another being, you are opening yourself for unforeseen dangers of another’s magic working on you.  

“The road to creating [Teleport Other] kills just as many as the road to creating [Teleport], itself. Many who pass the first hurdle on the way to [Gate] fail at this hurdle, and end up killing someone. Many drop out because of the guilt.” He added, “We are Wayfarers, after all. Killing someone with a [Teleport] is anathema to our beliefs.”

Erick nodded, listening.

Fieldsmith said, “You also can’t create [Teleport Other] unless you target another sapient person. Animal experimentation does not work. This stops a lot of people from ever trying; me included.”

Rexarix agreed, saying, “Yes. That, too.”

Erick asked, “And now we come to [Gate]?”

Rexarix unhappily said, “You need to create the same space in two different locations. The exact same space.”

The three of them watched as Erick pondered.  

Erick frowned. “How is that difficult?”

Like a person knowing the depths of the problem being forced to deal with a lay person, Rexarix calmly asked, “How would you do it?”

Erick threw out an idea. “Vacuum in a space… A pair of doors, [Duplicate]d, or whatever that Registrar spell is. The doubling one. You put a vacuum in a prepared space that is magically the same, and then you fill them with a special [Teleport]-harmony infused [Ward]— Ah. No. You fill them both, at the same time, with your own Elemental Body harmony. And then you step through, creating a [Gate].”

Rexarix said, “That is one of the more popular ideas. Doesn’t work. Near as we’ve been able to tell, [Duplicate] doesn’t create a pure copy of the original.”

“How do you get [Duplicate]?” Erick asked, “I’d like to try that method.”

Fieldsmith said, “We have some contacts in the Bookbinders of the Arcanaeum Consortium who are willing to cast the spell for us, under a contract of secrecy. But getting the spell yourself is beyond the scope of our power. And you shouldn’t need a physical device for [Gate], anyway. Every instance of the spell being used has it standing in open space.”

Fork said, “We will need the physical device later, for enchanting purposes.”

Erick said, “True.” He said, “Then how about a [Ward] that—”

“[Gate] is not a part of [Ward],” Rexarix said, a little tiffed.  

Fieldsmith breathed a little deeper than normal, while putting on a strained smile and ignoring Rexarix. Fork side-eyed Renarix.  

Erick just smiled, then put his hand on the book. “It appears I have some reading to do, and a Headmaster to contact about a [Duplicate] spell.” He stood up. “Thank you, gentlemen. This was a most enlightening meeting.”

The three others stood up.  

Fork said, “Of course, archmage.” He lifted his hand. The [Silence Ward] around the room popped, like a soap bubble. The casual sounds of the stone building returned; footsteps on stone while people talked and heavy shipments moved downstairs. “We can reconvene when you’ve had time to read. When do you think that will be?”

Ophiel twittered happy violin sounds, to hear the world return.

Erick said, “It might be a few days.”  

After dispensing pleasantries and ending their meeting, Erick met Kiri and Teressa at the door to the room. A slight bit of inspiration struck, since he had two extra people to blip home, but only two hands. A while ago, Ophiel had managed to blip away, carrying objects with his Handy Aura instead of his actual hands, hadn’t he? Erick tried that, now, first sending a telepathic message so that everyone knew what was happening, then using his Handy Aura to have many more ‘hands’. He touched all four of his other passengers on their shoulders, making sure that Ophiel was counted among his targets, then blipped home.  

Erick smiled as he appeared in the foyer of his house, along with Kiri, Teressa, Poi, and Ophiel. His little experiment had worked.

Kiri turned to him, saying, “When you explained it, I didn’t think it was going to work, because usually you have to be a Wayfarer to have that many [Teleport] targets.” She glanced at the book in his hands. “Was it really that easy to learn their tricks?”

Erick smiled. “That wasn’t them at all.” He patted Ophiel on his shoulder. The little guy cooed. Erick said, “That was an experiment with my [Flight of a Thousand Hands]. Maybe it works because it’s already labeled as a ‘hand’ spell?”  

“Then…” Kiri asked, “Were you showing off on them?”

Erick paused. “I wasn’t trying to.”

Poi smirked. “And yet you did.”

“Nice.” Teressa laughed as she walked off, saying, “I’ll get dinner started.”

“Thank you, Teressa.” Erick turned away from the others, as he sent to Eduard, of the Mage Trio, ‘Hello? This is Erick. If you have a moment, I’d like to talk.’ He left the line open, while he held the black Wayfarer’s book in his hand, and said to Kiri, “So this is deadly, and apparently not for sharing. All the other books in the library are still fine, though.”

Kiri stood straighter. She said, “Of course.” She added, “I wasn’t going to… Of course not.”

“I wanted you in there too, Kiri, but it wasn’t to be.”

Kiri smiled slightly, then nodded.  

- - - -

Erick sat in his library, reading his new book, when a voice came to him.  

Eduard sent, ‘Hello, archmage. How can I help you?’

‘I’m about to deliver 18 million mana worth of rads to Candlepoint, but I’d like some opinions, first.’ Erick set the Wayfarer’s book aside, sending, ‘How has the Headmaster done this? How does it look on the ground? Are you the ones that actually give Candlepoint the rads to get the materials you’ve been testing? That sort of thing.’

After a moment, Eduard said, ‘We’re over here in Candlepoint right now. We would like to observe your own interaction and how it plays out for you, and then talk to you about your transaction afterward.’

‘I guess that works. I assume you want to get an untainted reaction from them?’

‘Yes. I’d say more, but... I mean… Yeah. That’s exactly it. Thank you for understanding.’

Erick began summoning Ophiels, as he sent, ‘I’ll be sending the goods over soon. Maybe an hour, at the front gate.’

‘We’ll still be here.’

- - - -

As the sky turned red and purple with the oncoming night, nine Ophiels, bloomed out to their full three meter height, blipped into the Crystal Forest west of the shadeling city of Candlepoint. They flew in formation, over the sands, making their way forward. They held under their control floating platforms laden with stone boxes, full of marquise-cut rads that shimmered under the sunset, cloudless sky.  

The gates of Candlepoint were not there; this city was always open to whoever wanted inside. Guards in dark armor stood to the sides of the open space, but they were not there for actual defense, except from the occasional wandering mimic. The guards were there for show. Upon seeing Ophiel’s flight, two of the guards quickly ducked into the buildings beyond the gate. By the time Ophiel had flown forward another ten meters closer, another person had taken to standing on the sands, in the center of the open gate. She had white hair, horns, and skin, while her grey robes fluttered gently in the slight wind. It was hard to mistake Justine Erholme for anyone else than herself.

Erick flew closer to Justine, to the gate, taking his time, not wanting to appear threatening. For the guards’ part, they formed up, shifting from a casual stance of leaning against the gate walls and talking with each other, to standing tall and in formation to Justine’s sides. All of the guards looked more or less the same, but one of them was shorter than the rest. As Erick neared, he recognized the short guard. It was that Irkil human kid. Erick smiled to himself, happy that the kid had gotten into the Guard. Even if it was an emotional trick, it was still a nice emotion.  

Erick restrained eight of his Ophiel to hover where they were, while moving closer with the leader and a platform full of cargo. He said, “Hello, Justine.”

Justine held her hands in front of her, one clasped to the other. She stood stiffly tall, but her eyes were happy, and the slight upturn of her lips almost seemed to betray her joy. “Greetings, Archmage Flatt.”

Now that Erick was closer, he saw the unabashed smiles on the faces of the other guards, as they tried and failed to hold their proper stances on the sand. But then the air filled with a weird buzzing, and every single shadeling stood in perfect form, smiles gone, joy erased. Or rather, held back?  

Yes, yes. The buzzing was Bulgan making himself known. Erick could barely bring himself to care about that asshole. What did he want now?

A shadow formed out of Justine’s own, then stepped up into the light, revealing the asshole himself, in full, smug, assholishness. Dark skin, black hair, black horns, Bulgan smiled wide, revealing white teeth. His bright, wholly white eyes seemed to glow brighter as he spoke with a predatory mien, “Hello, Erick.”

Erick kept his words perfunctory, through the [Prestidigitation] projection of his voice, “Hello, Bulgan.”

Bulgan stood on the tips of his toes for a second, then pantomimed looking off into the distance, with one hand held flat across his forehead to shade his sight from the sun. “Oh my! Such a haul you have!” He dropped the slight act, and said, “Standard rate!” He nudged Justine with his shoulder, saying, “You’ve done pretty good securing his support. Do you think it’s enough to get him to turn to our side in the coming war?”

Justine was white-skinned, but Erick was sure he saw her pale, further.

Erick ignored Bulgan, saying to Justine, “I’ve got it all split into thousand mana boxes. This is only the first shipment—”

With a near-casual reach into the air, like he was picking up a grapefruit from a grocery story display, Bulgan grabbed a sword that had not been there, and planted it into the guts of a nearby guard. The guard crashed to the ground, as the meter-long length of shadow vanished into nothing. Blood gushed, as the guard died.  

Erick lost all train of thought.  

Bulgan plucked another length of shadow from the air, saying, “I told you before, Erick. Don’t ignore—”

At that moment, as a man who might have been a ploy died on the ground, Erick knew he was going to do something. He wasn’t quite sure what his action would be, until it happened. So it surprised him just as much as it surprised Bulgan, when Erick cast [Shadow Shape] and [Telekinesis], grabbing the length of shadow in Bulgan’s hand, right before it entered Justine’s skull, just above her ear. Brief surprised crossed Bulgan’s face, as he smiled, seeming to flicker his fully white eyes between the sword and Ophiel. He let go of the sword. It remained hovering where Bulgan left it to hover.

Erick had tried to telekinetically control the conjured weapons of another, well before today. Sparring with Kiri gave him a lot of experience in that regard. Telekinetically controlling something already in the control of another was a very difficult thing to do. Erick had only managed the feat in his spars with Kiri, when Kiri’s grip had been less than perfectly secure.

Bulgan’s grip had been secure. It should not have been that easy to stop his sword.  

And once the sword was out of Bulgan’s control, Erick should have been able to move it away from Justine, but he couldn’t. The length of shadow was stuck in the air, where Bulgan had let it go.

Justine, for her part, stood strong, unflinching, while a trace of red trickled through her white hair, to travel down her ear, where it collected like a ruby earring before dropping onto her grey robes. She did not move, or betray a single thought about repositioning. Frozen in fear, or perfectly in control of her own actions, or under the control of another, Erick could not tell.

The wind howled in Ophiel’s ears, while blood pumped in Erick’s, all the way back in Spur.

Bulgan slowly smiled, wider and wider. He stepped back. He laughed. Then he whirled around and slammed his fist like a great hammer against the hilt of his still-hovering sword, driving it—

A hint of spider-like magic zipped out of Ophiel, striking the sword, cracking it from the inside out, shattering the conjured weapon into shadow-crawling fragments that spread in every direction. Bulgan whiffed on his hit, striking nothing but air, as dark [Spell Breaker] spiders exploded across his face, and across the rest of him. The unnatural darkness of his skin and clothes flickered and faded, briefly revealing purple incani hues and fine, dark fabrics, before shadows crawled back over him.  

Bulgan laughed loud, then stepped back, setting one foot behind the other while spreading his arms and hands down to his sides, open palmed, like the magnanimous loser of an inconsequential series of events. He smiled. He said, “Expect a test every time you arrive.”  

Bulgan vanished into shadows.

At that moment Erick knew he had failed one test, but passed another. Bulgan had let him gain slight telekinetic control over the sword, but Erick had certainly dispelled the conjuring.  

Three things rapidly happened. The guards next to their fallen companion dropped down to their fallen companion, holding onto him as they shouted at him, trying to bring the redscaled man back from the dead. But the man was not dead. Justine moved down to the man, flaring white light, holding a glowing palm to the fallen.  

Other guards stepped back, giving Justine space. One held onto his dying friend, turning him onto his back to aid Justine’s healing spells. The small hole that Bulgan had made through the redscale’s armor, into his chest and out the back, healed over; pale red scales covering pale red flesh. Justine kept her healing light on the man, until he coughed loudly, sputtering blood across Justine’s face. But she didn’t care. The dragonkin breathed deep. His friends helped him upward, as Justine pulled back, the white glow of her hands fading as she moved away.  

Erick wasn’t sure where his mind was right now, when he offered, “Does he need rads? He can have a box if he wants.”

Justine flinched. Then she reoriented. She stood straight, then bowed to Erick, saying, “Thank you for saving this one’s life.” She stood up.

“Speaking like that makes me think you’re not really yourself.”

Justine flinched again, as though struck. She said, “Apologies. I… I can see how you could think that. This was merely how I was raised to speak to my betters.”

Erick was not, at all, in the mood to correct anyone’s thinking, but it had to be said, so he said, “I’m not your better.” Erick said, “But we’re all better than the Shades, though I don’t think I need to tell you that. Not when one of them tried to kill you just now.”

Justine remained silent, as her grey eyes seemed to whirl as her mind turned with unsaid thoughts.

The impaled dragonkin-shadeling had been moved into the shade behind the gate while Erick and Justine spoke. He rested on a stone bench, just outside of the sunset light. He seemed to be doing better now that he was in the deeper shadows. His breathing evened out, anyway.  

Erick pointed a few of Ophiel’s eyes toward the man, asking again, “Does he need some rads to properly heal? I don’t know how this works for your people.”

Justine said, “Uh.” She clarified, “Yes. Uh. He could use some, I’m sure. Rads help the healing process.” She added, “Um.”

Ophiel raised a wing, and a stone box lifted from the floating platform behind. Erick moved the box forward, setting it down on the other side of the gate, next to the recovering man. The dragonkin then picked up a rad, nodded toward Ophiel, and crushed a stone in his palm. He breathed deep, inhaling an almost imperceptible white glow. He breathed easier. When he opened his palm, the rad was gone; not even dust remained.

Erick turned Ophiel to Justine, saying, “I’ve got about 18,000 boxes to give. Each one has 1000 mana worth of rads inside, give or take a bit.”

Justine said, “Right away.” She glanced to the guards at her sides. They moved out.  

Erick moved his squadron closer and set the stone boxes down on the sands outside of the gate. But what he had brought was not the full count of his loot. Ophiels blipped away, then came back with even more stone boxes. It wasn’t long till the haul of two separate Ballooning Spider incursion laid in front of Candlepoint; boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Guards moved with swiftness, telekinetically picking up fifteen to twenty boxes at a time, forming an assembly line to move them into the deep shadows inside the guard stations behind both sides of the gate. Rads went into the darkness, but only the boxes themselves came back out.  

Erick dismantled most of the discarded stone boxes back into sand, which he scattered to the land outside of the gate, but he kept some stone boxes for the guards to have a place to deposit his darkchips. It was 1500 darkchips to a box, according to Erick’s correct calculations. The currency of Candlepoint was much smaller than rads, after all. A darkchip was only about a square centimeter large.  

While that was happening, Erick asked Justine about the city. Casual questions, about the state of things. Justine answered as honestly as she seemed able to answer. Candlepoint was doing much better with the food he had provided. They had even taken some of the beans and used [Grow] to have a few strains of spicy beans, and salty beans, and savory beans, in order to flavor the rice and beans that everyone was eating these days. They were still growing vegetables with their water gathering runes, too, but Erick’s donation had cleared up all of their immediate problems.  

Erick approved. When he was done moving rads out for the guards to pick up, he dismissed an Ophiel on site and conjured another one at home, to gather up some vegetables from his own garden. Lemons, corn, potatoes, and a whole bunch of spices, went into a simple stone gift basket. He gave those vegetables to Justine and refused further payment when Justine offered extra darkchips.  

Time passed, and Erick certainly noticed the people sticking around down the way, at the intersection of where this gate’s street led into the main street. Some of them eyed the stone boxes full of darkchips. Some of them openly gaped at the glittering rads just outside of the city. But not a single one moved into the area. Everyone stayed away. A few inquisitive [Scry] eyes appeared over the haul, but every Ophiel popped those after two or three seconds, ensuring that whoever was viewing the scene was aware enough to not blip into the area. That would have gone poorly, Erick was sure. He certainly didn’t need any extra drama, either. Whoever needed to blip in could just use one of Candlepoint’s other gates.

It took the guards half an hour to fully accept Erick’s exchange. By the time the last floating box disappeared into the shadows of the guard house, the sky was full dark. Stars shone above, while the moons crested the horizon, but the city of Candlepoint was a riot of colored lights bright enough to drown out the heavens.  

Erick had already moved 11 darkchip-full stone boxes to another location, under the sands outside of Spur. One box remained beside the Ophiel at Candlepoint. He looked down at the final black-filled box, as the last guard tossed the final handful of darkchips inside.  

With a smile that had only grown larger as rads disappeared into shadows, Justine asked, “Erick, sir?” She had also gotten used to using his name, because Erick had told her to use his name no less than three times. “Are you going to purchase anything from the Crystal?”

“No.” Erick didn’t mention how he was absolutely sure that those items were traps. He had already said it once. He didn’t feel like repeating himself.

Justine tried a different tactic. “I can show you how every item works, if you wish?”

“No.” He said to Justine. “Tell me: What would happen to you if I decide to never come here again?”

Justine paused. “… If I have given offense—”

“That is not it, and you know it.” Erick said, “Besides. The next time I show up Bulgan might actually kill you. Or any number of other people.”

Justine said, “My duty is to my people. If I were not here, I would be casting myself dry in the garden houses, bringing sustenance to others, and helping those who are still trying to regain themselves.”

Erick hated himself for falling for this trap, but he asked anyway, “Valok. The man who was here last time. Where is he?”

Justine said, “If it is your wish, I will ensure he stays out of your sight, but I will not end the man. He fell down a dark path after the events of our previous encounter but he is gradually regaining his sense of self, immersed in the green, as he is accustomed.”

That was fine. He could stay away from Erick, for now. Probably forever.  

“I’m not giving you rain on any schedule, but I can give you clouds and natural rainy weather, likely for days at a time. If no one [Dispel]s it, of course.” Erick asked, “Do you want that?”

“Yes,” Justine said, with no hesitation. “I have already spoke to others who have a modicum of power in Candlepoint. Water Season is a month away, but we need water now. We wish for this bounty, Erick. We will accept anything you are willing to give.”

With Ophiel’s many eyes, Erick looked to the sky over Candlepoint. He pulsed [Control Weather], throwing a thousand mana into the spell, adjusting the ambient northern wind into something less violent, calling down moisture in the atmosphere.  

There was one thing Erick had learned, more than most, when he had been reading about the weather systems of the Crystal Forest: there was more than enough water in the sky and under the ground to turn this land green from the Wall of the Wasteland Kingdoms in the west, all the way to the Mondariska Mountains in the east. But the mimics were a plague in more ways than one. Their rage against the green ensured no plants grew, ensuring a vicious cycle where the desert remained a desert, as long as the mimics lived.  

The Cloud Giants in their invisible Castles in the sky were another problem, with their innate cloudshaping abilities stripping everything that coalesced above, but they seemed to Erick a minor issue compared to what the mimics had done, and continued to do. For the most part, the Cloud Giants liked to be left alone; they had never bothered Spur in all of Erick’s rains.  

Knowing all of that, knowing how much water there truly was up there, it wasn’t that much of a problem for Erick to get the sky to cloud over, and for an unnatural rain cycle to be enforced upon an unnatural world.  

The harsh northern wind went silent. Cold wind turned warmer. The night sky began change. First came wispy stretches of darkness high in the sky that seemed to blot out a few stars here and there, but do nothing else. Those splashes of growing moisture turned into ethereal clouds that roiled upon themselves, before growing large enough that the colored lights of Candlepoint began to reflect back upon the city. From horizon to horizon, clouds moved in.  

Candlepoint brightened in reflected wardlight. The city no longer looked like a stretch of unnatural darkness, layered in glows, but instead like a comfy holiday decoration. It was still half made of black and the other half made of rainbows, so Erick had no idea where he got the ‘holiday decoration’ from, but that’s what it seemed like to him.  

But it wasn’t enough. So Erick moved most of his squadron of Ophiel out into every direction, blipping them into appropriate locations as he recast the spell in a dozen different Super Large Areas. His control over the weather expanded, several fold. Clouds moved in. A quiet storm began to form.  

The Ophiel remaining by Justine just watched the sky, as clouds turned dense.  

A soft rain began to fall.  

Erick said, “That should remain for a while, changing on circumstance. Less rain in the day, clouds all the time, though. Daytime shadeling craziness might be lessened. Same goes for night time. I don’t know, though. [Dispel] it if it becomes a problem.”

Justine looked up into the rain, smiling as droplets ran down her face. She breathed, and breathed, and seemed more than happy. She was having a moment. Nearby guards laughed a little, as they tapped the dampening sand with their feet. Some of them opened their mouths to taste the rain. The main street, down the way, had gone quiet as night came on and the safety of sunset passed. But as rain began to fall, the shadelings down the road had stopped and stared at the sky, while the few adventurers in sight had grown even more wary of the changing atmosphere of the streets.  

In the small alleyways between the gate and the main road, shadelings poked out from the shadows, looking up, holding out their hands to catch raindrops. They touched their faces and their ragged clothes. One industrious young shadeling man stripped right there, washing his torn, dirty shirt in a quickly gathering puddle.  

Erick said, “I don’t know how bad disease is going to get, but if you guys don’t have [Cleanse], then you’re probably fucked. I don’t know how to help you with that.”

“Mephistopheles has managed to survive and thrive. He has gained slight actual control of the Garrison.” Justine said,  “He requested of the Clergy that he be allowed to offer smaller quests than the main monster board. They approved. Now, we have a minor influx of [Cleanse] wands, every day.”

Erick turned back to Justine. “You’re probably going to have to change your city’s architecture. Gutters and sewers or whatever. You can gather water and grow your own food, now.”

Justine faced Ophiel. She put on a professional face, as she bowed, saying, “Thank you, Archmage.” She straightened. She was smiling. “Thank you, Erick.”

Erick said, “Good luck integrating into society. Hopefully you’re not actually monsters.”

Justine bowed again, smaller and quicker than before. “Thank you for your assistance in getting this far. I am sure we can live up to your hopes, while proving your fears unfounded.”  

“I’ll make sure to keep the weather wet.” He had Ophiel pick up his last box of darkchips with a Handy Aura, saying, “I won’t be appearing for a while, if I can help it. I don’t want to put the people here in danger if Bulgan decides to be an asshole again.”  

Justine bowed. The nearby guards bowed, too.

Ophiel blipped away, to another part of the Crystal Forest. Erick had to get away from that before it turned even more uncomfortable than it already was.  

The sky was clear above him, but behind, dark clouds roiled on the still wind.  

Ophiel blipped a few more times, then deposited the stone box in the appropriate part of the Crystal Forest, before dispersing himself. Erick wasn’t about to bring those chips home with him.

Erick came back to himself. The Ophiel on his shoulder twittered in a mix of violins, guitars, and harps.  

Eduard’s voice sounded, ‘Able to talk?’

‘Yes.’ He sent, ‘Come on over.’

- - - -

Maia Rokva sat next to her brother, Eduard Rokva, on the couch of the sunroom, while Ramizi Fieldsend took a side chair, next to Eduard. They looked okay; healthy. That was Erick’s primary concern, right now. He had seen them in the back ground, briefly, while he was dealing with Bulgan, but they were not there afterward. Erick felt a heavy relief upon seeing them in person. But how were they, mentally? They had been testing out Candlepoint’s offerings for the Headmaster, and they had gone back to Oceanside every day to get tested to make sure they were still themselves. But were they still truly okay? Maia’s yellow hair was bright, like her blue eyes, but there was a darkening of her features that hinted at deep worries. Eduard was much the same as his sister. Ramizi was the only one without a worry on his face, or in his posture.

Poi had directed them to sit in the sunroom and cleared them for contact. After Poi drew the curtains shut, closing off any potential spies from outside, Erick walked into the room.  

He took his seat across from the Mage Trio, saying, “Hello, Maia, Eduard, Ramzi.” As they nodded and Eduard almost said something, but Erick looked to Ramizi, asking, “Why do you look okay, while Maia and Eduard look sad?”

Eduard frowned, turning away from Ramizi, as Ramizi suddenly flinched.  

Ramizi turned to Eduard, whispering, “What? But you said—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Eduard faced Erick more fully, saying, “Apologies, archmage.”

Ramizi glared at Eduard.

Maia looked to Erick, cutting off all building anger between her brother and her brother’s boyfriend, by saying, “It is a personal matter of some annoyance, and while your concern is appreciated, it is not needed or desired in order to resolve this internal dispute.”

Ramizi was having none of that, and said, “What the fuck, guys?”

“We’re not doing this, here,” Maia said.

“Fine,” Ramizi said, looking away from Maia and Eduard.

Eduard remained silent.  

After a moment longer, Erick said, “I would be sorry for stepping into that, but I am not. What happened, and is it strategically significant?”

“It is strategically important,” Eduard said, but stopped there.

Ramizi frowned at no one in particular.

“Fine. I guess we are doing this.” Maia quickly explained, “In the course exploring Candlepoint for the Headmaster, the Headmaster offered us the task to purchase and use a Stat fruit. The three of us decided to accept the opportunity. The three of us also decided that once it happened and a day passed, whoever got it would go to the Registrar and get rid of it.”

“We flipped some coins.” Eduard said. “Ramizi got picked.”

“I see...” Erick turned toward Ramizi. “Do you feel compelled to keep it?”

“Looks like,” Maia said, as Eduard said, “He does.”

“Guys!” Ramizi said, collapsing a little. Then he sat up straight, putting on a brave face, reporting, “20 Intelligence means 20% reduced spell costs. If there is a further multiplier at 20 Intelligence, the Headmaster’s dictionary attack has not revealed that skill. But it could still be there! It doesn’t matter if it counts after every other count. It still ends up being a lot of saved mana.” He said, “In addition to that, and further confirming the Headmaster’s idea of how Intelligence works, I made the my first tier seven spell I could ever cast, yesterday. Intelligence lets me make better spells.”

Eduard said, “You are compromised, Ramizi.”

“I am not. Headmaster’s tests said so.” Ramizi said, still acting as professional as he could. “Besides, I’d lose 7 points, permanently, if I chose to give my Intelligence up. It doesn’t work like normal stats work.”

“We all knew that already! You’re the one that spent those seven points!” Eduard said, his voice turning acidic. “We all agreed that we would give it up anyway, no matter the benefits.”

Erick looked to Poi, standing to the side of the room.

Ramizi instantly noticed Erick’s gaze. He spoke up, “You can tell them I am still me.”

Eduard rounded on Ramizi, his voice loud, but not a yell, “And that is part of the problem! It doesn’t matter what the Mind Mages say. They can’t tell if there’s some deeper problem, and so we agreed. All of us.”

Ramizi asked Poi, “Just tell them I’m still me.”

Erick sighed. He looked to Poi. All eyes were on Poi, right now, while the man himself likely had several mental conversations going on at once, according to the threads of intent coming off of his bluescaled head. A few threads multiplied, briefly, before collapsing back down to one.

“Fine. I’ve been cleared for some truth telling.” Poi narrowed his eyes, and said, “Ramizi manipulated the outcome of your coin flips. He stole the fruit from you—”  

He didn’t have to finish, because Eduard yelled, “You planned this? You manipulated—

Maia’s eyes went wide, as she stared at the ground.

“Why!” Eduard demanded, “Why!”

All color drained from Ramizi’s face as the conversation went somewhere he obviously did not think it would go.

Poi said, “From the very moment the Stat fruits were revealed to the world, and the nature of Intelligence was hinted at, Ramizi plotted to gain this Stat. He is not a compromised actor. He is merely a plotter.”

Ramizi looked away, to the wall, whispering, “I’m reporting you.”

“Gods dammit, Ram,” Maia said, bone-deep tired.

Eduard just went silent.

“Go ahead and report me, Mage Fieldsend.” Poi said, “I have already reported this incident, myself.”

Before anyone else could speak, Erick said, “That is enough of that. No more harsh words.” He asked Poi, “Would your people know the status of those who have taken extra Stats, and be willing to share? Are any of them malicious actors?”

“I can say that no extra Stat, on its own, is cause for alarm. They appear to be real Stats, with real effects, but much in the way that Particle Magic is a new thing, these new Stats will surely have unforeseen, real results, that have nothing to do with the Shades at all.” Poi added, “Except, perhaps, Charisma. There is much debate at the moment, but that Stat might require a kill on sight order. It is the same action we already employ against all malicious Mind Magic.”

Silence dominated the sunroom.  

Erick said, “Okay.” He breathed deep. He said, “So. That’s all that…”

More silence.

Erick changed the subject, asking “So about when I gave rads to Candlepoint?”

Maia professionally said, “Your delivery was the largest single exchange to date, but even getting 18,000 darkchips only puts you at second place. Through proxies like us, the Headmaster has spent over 30,000 darkchips at the Crystal in the center of the city.” She added, “We’ve already reported to him what we saw, and we will also report the pertinent parts of this discussion to him, later.”

“I expect as much,” Erick said.

Maia nodded. She continued, “Bulgan has not appeared for any exchanges with anyone except for your exchange, hours ago.”

Erick frowned. That was disconcerting. He had known that his interactions with Candlepoint and with Bulgan had been cultivated by the Shade, but Erick was hoping that he wasn’t the only one on Bulgan’s radar. He asked, “Bulgan isn’t only poking at me, is he?”

“He seems to be,” Maia said, taking easy control of the conversation.

The other two participants in the room shared a thin line of telepathic intent between their heads, silently speaking to each other. Whatever they were saying, they kept their reactions off of their faces. Bah! Erick spent no more thoughts on whatever was going on there. He was concerned at the obvious split in the group he had witnessed, for something like that was never fun to witness, but at the same time, it wasn’t Erick’s business.  

Maia said, “Bulgan targets anyone who starts shit near the Crystal, or those who are anything less than perfectly polite in his presence. But he doesn’t go out starting his own shit with anyone but you, archmage.”

“He tried to kill Jane and I when we first arrived in Spur, almost ten months ago.” Erick said, “He failed, and our own success might have driven him away, to the Shades. It’s my understanding that he was already deep in with them, though, so that’s all on him. Jane joined up with the Army to try and hunt him down before he got too strong. At the time, I thought it was an unnecessary risk. But now, I wish she would have succeeded.”

Maia said, “We have heard something like that, too.” She added, “But still… We did not expect what we saw. The beginning of your exchange was completely abnormal. After Bulgan left, it turned into the same thing we had seen twenty times before.”

Eduard spoke up, “Are you going to continue to visit Candlepoint?”

“No.” Erick said, “I stopped Bulgan from killing my guide, because he let me stop it from happening. I will not take that risk again, though I fully expect Justine’s body to be strung up as a taunt when I fail to show. I left them rain, and will continue to ensure it rains an adequate amount for the foreseeable future. They can gather and [Grow] what they need to [Grow], themselves, without me subjecting myself to their tortures.”

Maia said, “Probably for the best. They are friendly when they can be, but when they’re not… The reversion to monster can happen in a snap.”

Erick remembered seeing the dead-eyed shadelings in the streets. He asked, “How about the food stores I gave them? Rice and beans? Are they doing better with access to more food?”

“That food is gone.” Maia said, “For two days, they ate well. Then they were back to food lines barely serving people enough to get by.”

Erick gutted. “What the fuck.”

Eduard said, “There’s a hundred thousand shadelings, in there.”

“What?” Erick said, “I thought there was 30,000, maybe.” He looked to Poi. “How many shadelings does Spur think there are?”

Poi said, “35,000, estimated.”

“That’s what I based my numbers on, too,” Erick said. “That food should have lasted a week.”

Eduard said, “The Headmaster only began to suspect 100,000 people as of today. That number was calculated based on the quickness of your donation vanishing from around the city.” He added, “But they have water now. So they should be able to sustain themselves without turning to cannibalism.”

Erick felt his stomach turn. “Do we have any idea why the Shades are doing this?”

Eduard said, “A few ideas have cropped up.” He paused, then said, “For your eyes only, we do have some important information to share on that front. Are you aware of Jane’s experiences with Fake Magic?”

Erick blanked for a moment. “Oh.” He said, “They’re trying to introduce new magics to Veird?” He added, “I could see that… But… hmm...”

Eduard took a moment to say the next part. “If this is truly what they are trying to do, this might mean that we have to murder them all before their plan comes to fruition. A preemptive strike, before they invent their own forms of [Call Lightning].”

No one spoke.

Then Erick breathed out, “… Ah. I see.”

Eduard spoke a little more on their own experiences in Candlepoint. For them, the city had been coldly welcoming. Polite words had been spared for every adventurer invading the city, but it wasn’t until people proved themselves as non-violent that doors began to open. For those who harmed shadelings, they found nothing more than deserted streets and silence, when they weren’t in places like the Garrison, or by the Crystal, where shadelings were forced to deal with the people in their city.  

Maia added that they hadn’t been tricked or harmed at all, by anything they had experienced, and all of the Headmaster’s daily scans never revealed any untoward magical effects.  

Ramizi didn’t really talk.  

By the time they left, an hour had passed.  

- - - -

Erick laid in bed. Theoretically, he could have slept; he could have kept to a proper schedule. But he could not find peace in the darkness behind his eyelids. The events of the day played over and over again in his mind, and Erick was caught in the turbulence. He didn’t think he was capable of a ‘preemptive strike’. He would never be capable of that.

He sighed. There would be no sleep this night. He roused the Ophiel pretending to sleep in the crook of his legs, then conjured another. He conjured pillows in order to sit up in his bed, and then he sent his mind into his Ophiels.  

One of them blipped away, to another part of the world. The other retrieved the black book that he had gotten from the Wayfarers.  

Erick began reading, and experimenting.  

In a far off part of the Crystal Forest, where the night sky twinkled above, and the moons scattered pink, silver, and white light across the dunes below, Ophiel played in the strong northern wind. And then there was work to do. Ophiel conjured a floating platform, then filled that platform with a weak, dense air; Erick would be casting much of the magic tonight himself, but it was always good to be prepared with a Restful space for Ophiel.

At Erick’s guidance, Ophiel took to the greater sky. Once there, above it all, he conjured bright spotlights, to fully chase away the darkness for hundreds of meters in every direction, to make what came next easier. Erick was under no illusions that the Darkness could ever actually be chased away, so he didn’t care when the shadows under certain mimics or agave was deeper than it should have been, especially since both faker and plant were crystalline and translucent, and therefore there shouldn’t have been any shadows at all. The shadows were thick in the Crystal Forest; that’s just how it was sometimes.  

Crystal mimics chimed at the bright disturbance above, but paid no heed to what was not an attack.  

Erick let Ophiel play and recover his mana while he read in the safety of his bed, back home in Spur. When he was ready, and the parts he had read made sense for what he was trying to achieve, he took direct control of Ophiel, and cast his own [Lightwalk]. Ophiel became a being of light, with Erick’s mana. Air no longer whistled across his body, but in the bright spotlights, Ophiel moved across the sky as easy as deciding to move a finger.

Ophiel descended to the ground. [Stoneshape] lifted a series of large boulders from the ground, from fist-sized, to torso-sized, to Ophiel-sized. Ophiel grabbed at the smallest rock, but his feathers moved against the stone like a disturbed lightward, splashing fragmented glows into the air.  

Erick canceled [Lightwalk], had Ophiel pick up the stone, then resumed his [Lightwalk].  

The stone came with Ophiel, this time. Erick could feel it, like a rock in his shoe, inside the nebulous field of existence that was Ophiel’s lightform body. His concentration lapsed at the oddity of feeling the stone like it was a not-part of him, causing the stone to tumble to the ground.  

His next attempt at picking up the stone went much better, but the oddity of it still eventually caused the stone to drop down into orange sands.  

Erick came back to himself, sitting in his bed. He activated [Lightwalk] himself. His clothes came with him, but the bed did not. The book, sitting in his hands, fell through his lap to land on his covers. So why did his clothes come with him, but not the book or the bed sheets, or anything else next to him?

He tried an experiment. He dismissed [Lightwalk] and stood beside his bed. He focused on who he was; he was not his clothes, after all. As Erick turned to light, his pants dropped to the ground, but his shirt remained a part of his lightform body. He looked down, and yup, he was definitely dangling out there.  

Why did this spell work this way?

He canceled the spell and put his pants back on. This time, he didn’t focus on anything at all. He just turned on [Lightwalk], and all of his clothes came with him.

He flickered a few times, trying to selectively turn into light, and have his clothes fall off of him. After a while, he stood there, naked, devoid of all his items. With a bit more experimentation, he picked up his shirt, and selectively transformed into light, bringing the shirt in his hands with him. He put the shirt on while he was light, which was a strange experience all its own, but when he came back to his normal body, the shirt fell to the floor, shredded.  

Erick almost stopped. He had obviously made a big error somewhere in his impromptu experiment, but he hadn’t hurt himself. So, he continued.

A quick [Mend] repaired the shirt. He tried again. This time, the shirt appeared on his body, exactly as if he had put the shirt on himself.

Two blue boxes appeared.

--

Special Quest Complete!

You have remade a Basic Spell.

Since you do not already have Clothe, here you go:

--

Clothe 1, instant, touch, 25 mana.

Touch a garment you have worn and wear it again. Maximum transferring range of 10m.

--

… What?

Erick, pajama bottomless, stood there in his room, looking at his new blue boxes. He laughed. He reached down and touched his rings, then used his new spell. Blip, blip; his stat rings appeared on his fingers, in their usual configuration. Erick laughed again. Ophiel twittered in happy violins, happy that Erick was happy.

Erick stepped away, then had Ophiel touch his pants. Casting through his [Familiar] brought an expected result: Erick’s pants appeared on his person, exactly as though he had put them on himself.

Erick smiled. “I didn’t mean to make that spell, but still! Awesome!” He paused, as a thought came to him. “OH! [Clothe]! This is that spell that actors use to quick-change outfits, isn’t it? We talked about this in Esoteric Magic, once.” He pumped a fist into the air, saying, “Ha!”

Ophiel hopped into the air, whistling violins and harps, mimicking Erick by punching the air with a wing.

Erick stopped in his happy tracks. “Oh my gods. Could I do this, too?” He held his hand out, and channeled [Force Bolt]. A tiny dot of white light appeared above his palm, along with the distinct sound of reaching out and touching something. He hopped back into his bed.

In moments, he was back in Ophiel’s mind, far away in the bright night of the Crystal Forest. In a few more moments, Erick had constructed a few dozen stone pillars all across the orange dunes.

He started with [Force Bolt].  

Ophiel turned to white light.  

Erick concentrated on a distant point. He poked out with his lightform body, aiming to touch that which was too far away. He failed the first few dozen times; coming back to himself revealed no new boxes, and no new magic. But he did not fail forever. The harmonies of [Force Bolt] and the primal desire to reach out and touch something eventually combined to reveal a truth about the Script.

As the sun rose in the east, Erick achieved something special. Something that people like the Headmaster likely knew of, but rarely shared with the world.  

--

Special Quest Complete!

You have remade a Basic Spell.

Since you already have Force Bolt, here you go:

+1 point!

--

Erick smiled, sitting in his bed. He was certainly tired now, but who could sleep on a day like today? Not him! Not when there were so many more spells to remake, and points to grab.

… And he had to work on his Spatial Magic, too! Right!  

- - - -

In a cloud filled sky, that was neither made of clouds, nor sky, Rozeta flew in a way that was not actually flight at all. She checked on problems here and there, speaking directly to her Registrars when needed, while stamping out tiny fluctuations in the Script, and watching certain, interesting individuals. Her flight never ended. She never rested. Which was why she saw what Erick had done, the second he had done it. She got notifications, too, but they were more turning off the alarm because you woke up before it went off, sorts of notifications.  

She dismissed the almost-appearing blue box, then paused, automatically taking a moment of Eternity and turning it into as long of an infinity as needed. She didn’t technically stop, because this was Eternity, after all. There was plenty of time to do everything she needed to do without interrupting what she was already doing.

When she had confirmed the event, she smiled.

“Looks like you unlocked yet another special Class, mister Particle Mage Wizard,” she said to herself, in a good natured way, since she was the only one here, and the only one with enough knowledge to know what she was looking at, because she was not actually looking at anything. If there were eyes up here, they would certainly be too confused to understand even the smallest part of this place. “Good thing you like Particle Mage, because Copy Mage is a pain in the wing.” She paused. She hummed a transcendental tune that would have made bards cry at the beauty of her mumbling and composers chase the sky, forever, but she just uttered the nothing-tune while taking a moment to think, to fill the space usually occupied by so much more than this tiny moment. She said, “Ugh. Erick. You’re going to tell your daughter, aren’t you? And then who is she gonna tell… Hmm. No. That likely won’t happen.” She hummed a bit longer. She decided, “Good luck, Jane. I wonder if you can even do it that way.”

She almost exited that particular slice of infinity to move onto the next, but she had navigated Eternity for eternity, and something else happened in this particular slice of infinity that demanded her attention.

Rozeta, Dragon Goddess of the Script, preemptively turned off another almost-notification, as she frowned in a way that was more pure, unending displeasure, than the simple downturn of the lips.