by Pirateaba
“Ah, Magnolia! Wonderful to see you at last.”
The woman was the first to speak as Magnolia strode towards her. She looked down at Magnolia from the flight of steps, smiling unpleasantly. She was dressed in an expensive gown of silk, and her fingers glittered with magical rings.
Unlike Magnolia, who had a kind of genteel, relaxed aristocratic air about her, this woman seemed to embrace her own importance. She had commanding eyes, piercing blue and not diminished by her age. For that matter, her face and hair reflected little of her years as well, both being the products of expensive [Alchemist] potions and creams. Her hair was a dark brown, accented by—
Magnolia reached the top of the stairs and shoved the older woman out of the way as she was about to speak. The woman stumbled, caught herself, and turned, white with fury. She opened her mouth and realized that Magnolia was striding into the mansion already.
“Magnolia!”
Confusion, panic, and fear dominated the two younger Reinharts. One of them stumbled and the other shrieked in outrage.
“She pushed me! That maid—”
“Good job, Ressa. Keep up! Aunt Cecille, wonderful to see you. Get out of my way. Young Wernel, I notice you have a sword. Keep it sheathed or Ressa will do something about it. Is that Damia I hear screaming back there, Ressa?”
“Yes, milady.”
“Excellent. Wonderful lungs. She screams like a banshee, which puts me in mind of my sisters. All four of them. Let’s leave her behind, shall we?”
The two accelerated their pace, forcing Lady Cecille Reinhart to chase after Magnolia while venting her fury.
“How dare you, Magnolia! Is this the way you treat—slow down! Where are you running to? You haven’t returned to your estates for years and—slow down, I said!”
Magnolia did not slow down. She rounded a corner of the mansion, brushing past surprised servants, navigating from memory. Cecille hitched up her skirt and ran to catch up.
“The rest of your family awaits you in the parlor. They are demanding—”
“When aren’t they? I haven’t the time to deal with them, Cecille. Make my excuses if you want, but I’ll only be here long enough to grab what I came for and leave.”
Magnolia glanced sideways at her aunt. The woman’s face was red with fury.
“You think you can do as you please because you’re the head of the family?”
“Yes.”
Once again, Cecille was left standing gaping in outrage. She had to hurry to catch up again.
“And what is so—”
“I’m going to meet Grandfather. I need an army, and I intend for him to give me one. You may come if you wish. We’re nearly there.”
Magnolia threw open a pair of double doors and began descending. The wonderful, expensive and exotic carpeting which she’d gone past too quickly to appreciate turned into a sloping hallway of stone leading downwards. Cecille, whose hair was now far too frazzled to comment on, paused as she realized where she was, and where Magnolia was going. She turned pale.
“Grandf—you can’t mean to—how bad is the situation outside?”
“Wonderful. Just lovely, really.”
“Truly?”
“No. Why do you think I’m here?”
Magnolia tapped her foot impatiently as Ressa began walking down the corridor. She scowled up at the woman wavering at the entrance to the passageway.
“Well, Aunt Cecille? Coming?”
The older [Lady] of the Reinharts stared at Magnolia. She looked down at the stone passageway—still lovely craftsmanship, it had been constructed by Dwarves after all—but far older and abandoned compared to the modem mansion above. She hesitated.
And then fled.
Magnolia slammed the doors shut without a word and continued downwards, her shoes clicking as they touched the cold stone flooring. Ressa was waiting for her at the bottom of the ramp and they proceeded past ancient murals on the walls, vistas of past triumphs and defeats—the history of the Reinharts.
It was a very, very long passage because of that. The two women talked quietly as they walked quickly down the hallway, slowly descending further and further below the mansion. A ring on Magnolia’s finger began to vibrate as they walked and she took it off with a grimace.
“I forgot it does that. What an unpleasant time I’m having, Ressa. First I have to see Aunt Cecille, and that spoiled brat of a son she has. Did you see the magic sword he was trying to show us?”
“Just as well I kicked him as we passed. Otherwise I’m sure he would have followed. Your Aunt Cecille’s smart enough not to come down here, but he might actually try to accompany us.”
“Did you? Ah, you’re too thoughtful, Ressa. And you got to shove young Damia. I envy you.”
The [Maid] quietly smiled as she and Magnolia walked. She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the rest of the mansion.
“The rest of your family won’t be happy about this. I’d expect the entire lot to be waiting for you when you’re done.”
“They’re never happy, Ressa. And they probably never will be. So what? So long as I get what I come for, I’ll be happy enough to kick whomever I please afterwards. Now, let’s be ready. I hate meeting the old man and today I’m going to ask a lot from him. This will be tough enough without worrying about my lovely relatives.”
They had arrived. Magnolia strode into a different room than all the others she’d stormed through in the last few minutes. Here she stopped. For in this place, at the bottom of the Reinhart mansion, sudden movements might see you very dead.
A brief description of the Reinhart estate proper would be helpful in describing this room, for it was everything the mansion was not. If richness in every variety and excess was the theme that had been used to decorate the mansion by rich, if not particularly tasteful individuals, the theme of this underground room was magic.
And danger. A double line of runes formed a circle around the entrance to the grand room, and a slight shimmer in the air marked off a field that Magnolia did not approach. Beyond the magical boundaries lay—well, one word for it would be an armory.
Or a hoard. If Ryoka Griffin had been in this room, she would have felt a similarity between this room and the hoard of Teriarch the dragon. True, the rows of floating magical weapons, bookcases full of sealed magical scrolls and other lists of rare and valuable artifacts spoke of a greater deal of organization and attention to detail than Teriarch’s amiable splendor, but it was nevertheless a collection of wealth beyond most people’s wildest dreams.
Magnolia, who dreamed of confectionaries, was not impressed. She tapped her foot and then raised her hand and rapped on the invisible force field blocking her from the rest of the armory. Ressa, standing at her side and looking wary, winced. The unflappable maid was tenser here than she had been at any time during their long journey.
Her mistress was not. She raised her voice and cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted.
“Hello? Anyone there? Grandfather, I know you’re listening! Come out already! I haven’t got all day!”
Ressa shifted uncomfortably.
“Magnolia. Maybe it would be best to wait—”
“Give the old man a second to insist on ceremony and make an entrance and we’ll be here all day, Ressa. Old man, I know you’re out there! Come here, you pretentious letch!”
For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of Ressa swallowing. Then—footsteps. They came from a part deeper in the armory, where eyesight began to blur. Someone began walking towards Magnolia and Ressa. Had he been standing there all along? Or had he been called by Magnolia’s voice?
An old man walked into the center of the armory and stopped in front of the barrier that separated Magnolia from the rest of the room. He was old, yes, but hardly old enough to be called ‘grandfather’; he was in his mid-sixties and looked spry although it was true that his head of hair was almost completely grey.
He was dressed in a fashion that had gone out of style centuries
ago, and was so old that it would have been trendy by today’s standards. That was because fashion was cyclical, not linear. But age was not, and so the man’s eyes contained a depth to them that few other beings possessed. An agelessness similar, but not akin to the look in Ivolethe’s eyes, or Teriarch’s.
Four attendants, all young women, seemed to materialize from the back and came closer, spreading out the room around the old man. They were clearly [Maids] as well from the way they dressed, but they too were garbed in a style far older than the plain black and white Ressa was wearing. They nodded to Magnolia’s maid and she nodded back, as one did to fellow workers in the same trade.
The old man and Magnolia faced each other across the magical divide, locking gazes and then looking each other up and down. He peered at her with a frown, and then spoke.
“Young Magnolia. I should have known it would be you, girl. Only you would have the audacity to address me so casually.”
Magnolia snorted.
“As if your detection spells didn’t warn you I was coming the instant I set foot in the manor. Let’s dispense with the meaningless pleasantries, Grandfather. You know why I’m here.”
“Manners, brat. Or have you forgotten who it is you’re speaking to?”
The old man stared down at Magnolia imperiously. She sighed, and gave him a very fake, very unconvincing smile.
“Oh, forgive me great uncle Regis. Or is it great, great, great, great, great, great, great uncle Regis? A few hundred more greats? Would you like me to say that every time we meet?”
There was a snigger. It did not come from Regis. One of the attendants covered her mouth. Regis turned red and half turned to look at her before rounding on Magnolia.
“I am your honored ancestor, girl!”
“And I don’t care, you puffed up ghost.”
Ressa watched the interplay between Magnolia and Regis, whom she called Grandfather because Great Uncle was equally as incorrect. Ressa would never have dared to be so impolite to him on the other hand. She could sense the enchantments on this room, and they were making her sweat.
Detection spells, truth spells, and so many protection spells that Ressa felt like she were standing in front of a wall made of magic, for all it looked like a few glowing runes on the floor. But that was intentional. The real proof behind the magic contained in this vault lay in the old man himself.
He was dead. He had died over three thousand and eight hundred years ago in this very room. But his memory lived on, as perfect a reflection of the soul as there was in this world. Regis Reinhart stared at his grandniece of countless generations with a frown of annoyance on his face.
“You are impertinent, unruly, rude—which is still better than your cowardly relatives, I must admit. Do you know that they haven’t dared set foot down here since you left?”
Magnolia smiled.
“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. They don’t like being reminded that you’re here. The dead should stay dead in their eyes, especially if the dead know all of their mortal foibles and failings.”
Regis laughed shortly. Yes, he was dead, but he was alive in this room. A miracle of magic, or rather, one specific kind of it.
“You children. When did necromancy become such a horrific thing? When I was young, [Necromancers] were as valuable as diamonds! And if your family had a lick of sense between them, they’d realize that someone who’s lived for thousands of years might have some decent advice in his head to share with them!”
“Especially one who delights on spying on them and everyone he can.”
The old man bridled at the implication.
“What I do is to safeguard—”
“Yes, yes. Your time honored duty and all that. It doesn’t excuse what you do, old man. How many scrying spells do you have built into this place anyways?”
He grimaced.
“Not enough. The outside world is a complex place to keep track of, as you well know, girl. And my descendants within the estate are hardly valuable sources of information. They spend their time lazing about, bickering, and not doing anything of worth. That inbred lot is useless to pay attention to unless I wish to keep up with ballroom gossip.”
Magnolia smiled, although it was so bitter it couldn’t really be called a proper smile.
“Useless, yes. Inbred—no. I’m pleased that we’ve saved ourselves from that issue quite handily by entertaining prostitution, scandalous affairs, and if my wonderful family can rise up to the challenge, harassing the hired help. The Reinhart legacy is free from that issue for a few generations, at least.”
It was Regis’ turn to smile sourly.
“Tell that to Wernel and his half-sister, Damia. They quite enjoy each other’s company. Unbeknownst to their aunt, I might add.”
There was a pause. Ressa saw Magnolia’s face twist.
“Ew. I shall have a word with Cecille about that. Please do not inform me of the other indiscretions of my family, Grandfather Regis, or I believe I won’t sleep tonight.”
“As you wish. Tell me why you have come then, and I shall decide whether it was in vain, or not.”
Regis crossed his arms and his attendants came forward. Magnolia nodded. Now she was completely serious. She stepped closer to the barrier that kept Regis’ memory in the world and spoke.
“I, Magnolia Reinhart, do return to my ancestral home to claim the right of my blood. I ask for relics of the past for war and protection, to protect the lands our family has claimed, to destroy our enemies, and safeguard our legacy.”
Regis’ eyes glittered as he stared down at her.
“You have proven yourself a worthy scion over the decades you have ruled the family, girl. You have protected our name and returned more riches to this vault than you have taken. More than the other unworthy descendants of our house. So you may take what is needed. What is needed—and no more.”
His voice echoed through the room, and there was an acknowledgement. The barrier surrounding Magnolia and Ressa faded. Magnolia stepped forwards, and then she was standing in front of Regis. He reached out and grasped her by the arms, smiling down at her. She kicked him.
“Enough, old man.”
Regis’ face contorted and he grasped at his shin as Magnolia strode past him. His attendants hurried to his side as Ressa stood where she was. She knew better than to try and enter the armory.
“Ungrateful wretch!”
“We do this every time. Take what’s needed? Hah! The motto is ‘give more than you take’, you greedy fool. By rights I should walk out of here with a quarter of the contents of this armory in a bag of holding, rather than let you keep it.”
Magnolia strode past him and the attendants who’d been preserved along with Regis. To her, they were as real to the touch as they had been in life, and clearly felt the same, too. Only in this place, though. Ressa looked at Regis as one of the women helped him up and then she looked away. When Regis Reinhart had made the sacrifice to keep his soul here to safeguard the Reinhart treasures, he’d insisted on four [Maids] being preserved with him. The reason was obvious, and both Ressa and Magnolia detested the old man for it.
But he was the guardian. And though Magnolia picked up swords and looked through scrolls on shelves as Regis swore and limped after her, she could take nothing out of the armory without his consent. Which is why they began arguing again in the center of the room.
“I should ban you from this place for a decade for your disrespect—”
“Save it. You know as well as I that I’m owed whatever I need.”
Regis growled.
“In times of need! You can’t simply remove artifacts whenever you feel like it, as I’ve explained to your sister and brothers time and time again! If there’s a war, I’ll let you have what you need. But to my knowledge, there’s no war going on. Just more infighting, assassinations, a Goblin Lord—”
“That doesn’t count as a war anymore? My, how the times have changed.”
“On the contrary.”
/> The specter scowled as one of his attendants faded from view and came back with a drink in one hand and a map of the continent which she hung in the air. More ‘features’ of the enchantment that held him. Ressa was of the opinion that Regis had turned his sacrifice into a very enjoyable form of immortality as well as a way to safeguard the Reinhart legacy from greedy future generations.
Now Regis sipped at his drink, not deigning to offer Magnolia one. She could have drunk it too, for what passed into the armory became part of it. One of Regis’ requirements was for several barrels of the finest vintages to be rolled into this place every year.
Regis sighed as he wiped a bit of liquid from around his mouth with a napkin and then indicated the map.
“A Goblin Lord has and ever will be a threat. Not one necessarily worthy of a Reinhart, but I have heard of these assassinations too, child. They trouble me. The Circle of Thorns haunted your grandmother, and though I gave her aid, she died with their curse still yet lingering over the family. For that hint of danger alone I would give you something.”
“Good to know you’re keeping track of things.”
Magnolia nodded as she sat down in a seat one of the attendant ghost maids brought for her. She tapped a foot on the ground, not disturbed at all by where she was. Regis sat too.
“So you come for what? Detection spells to find the master of the assassins? Guardians to protect you?”
“I have Ressa for that. Don’t scowl, you know she’s capable. No, I need an army and arms against the Goblin Lord, Grandfather. You know he’s a threat. He crushed two Drake armies recently. Had you heard of that?”
Regis grimaced.
“No. I’ve been working to establish new informants, but it is passing difficult when I lack a body and must conceal my nature! I would have heard in time doubtless, but—how many in each army. Did they work together? What was their leadership?”
“Two Drake armies, one led by a Gnoll and the other a Drake from a Walled City. Both high-level [Generals]—”
“Hah! High level by your standards perhaps.”