by Unknown
Slate pulled the unopened envelope from his pocket and read it aloud.
Dear Slate,
You club-footed son of a ballerina – I did not think it possible to make such a royal mess of things. You must temper your anger at the death of your parents with a thread of self-preservation. Even I can only help you so much. If you continue down this path, my help will not be enough.
Your achievement in breaking into the Regallo estate has nonetheless passed the test. The mask in the trunk marks you as a full member of Sicarius. Welcome to the Crimson Guard. The only orders you will respond to are mine or orders directly from King Darik. The mask is only to be used on official Sicarius business, upon penalty of death.
As a member of Sicarius, you will be required to attend guild meetings. The next meeting will be tomorrow. Please wear your mask to preserve your identity. More details will follow.
Regards,
“I would say that becoming a full member of the Crimson Guard qualifies as a successful mission, wouldn’t you?” Slate couldn’t help but let a smile creep onto his lips.
“Even I won’t diminish this moment. Congratulations, Teacher. Should I break out the liquor?” Rainier offered.
“Let’s save that for later. I still have a visit with Master Primean tonight, along with attending Brannon. The liquor might help with Primean, but I’d pay two-fold showing up at Brannon’s office inebriated. Besides, I’ve heard Tribesmen can’t handle their liquor.”
“Fine…if you won’t drink with me, why don’t you practice your attending and bring me a drink? I might not be visiting Primean tonight, but I need to numb the pain of conversing with you.” Slate laughed and poured Rainier a drink before fixing a small dinner that he ate on the way to Primean’s laboratory.
Primean’s office was located in the basement of Ispirtu so Slate went to the side of Ispirtu where a storage closet was located. He unceremoniously smashed the window and dropped to the basement floor. That was one nice thing about Ispirtu…with all the recreated battles in the hallways, no one thought twice about a broken window or two. Besides, by tomorrow morning, the broken window would be magically repaired along with the collateral damage of the day’s recreated battles.
The basement of Ispirtu didn’t encourage guests. If the main floor of Ispirtu had been designed as a monument to the great wizards and battles of lore, the basement was the battleground of wizards hoping to one day become immortalized as a statue above. The basement housed the research laboratories for Ispirtu, along with the incredibly driven and anti-social wizards housed within them. It was Slate’s favorite place in the building, despite being home to Primean’s laboratory, because everyone was so preoccupied with their own discoveries they paid no attention to him. The sounds of failed or successful experiments arose from the closed doors of basement laboratories. Slate knocked at the double doors with the sign “Pain Tolerance Laboratory” scribbled above the door. Master Primean was always in need of test subjects, so he served as both Ispirtu’s disciplinarian and one of their most commended inventors. Slate was a regular test subject.
“Yes, yes, come in,” the familiar old voice came from within the room.
Slate opened the doors to see Master Primean bending over a particularly cruel looking chair. It sat next to a pool of water with a sponge in it and contained various forms of blades and other sharp objects. “Good evening, Master Primean. How is your research progressing today?”
“Slate! Good to see you!” The old wizard met him with an embrace. “I’m working on a most exciting discovery.” Exciting usually meant painful. “By using the pattern of a sponge soaking up water and linking it to a Bellator Guardsmen’s armor, the armor will collect the pain caused by injury!”
“That’s great, Master Primean…that could save a lot of guardsmen in battle. How will you know if it works?” Slate praised Primean while trying to mask his doubts. “…I just hope I’m not the first one to test it?”
The old wizard’s exuberance couldn’t be slowed. “Nonsense, young warlock. Now put on this armor, sit down in the chair and prepare to make history!” Slate did as he was told but was beginning to question whether his embarrassment of Lattimer was worth an evening with Primean. The wizard continued, “You will be perfect for this experiment. Since you are a frequent test subject, I have very good baseline data to see at which point you pass out. If you can withstand more pain than that, then my experiment will be a success!”
“…so today’s experiment will be on acute pain?” Acute pain was always preferable to chronic pain because the experiment would be short.
“Yes, these are just feasibility trials. Now let’s get the apparatus ready. Please place your arms on the armrests with your forearms facing upwards.” Slate obliged. Master Primean tightened leather bands across his wrist and upper forearm, holding it in place. Then a moveable arm with a collection of blades was positioned above his forearm. If Slate hadn’t been cut and healed so many times previously by Master Primean, he would have been worried.
“Ok, I’ve set the controls to be just above your baseline pain threshold. If this works as intended, you should feel nothing more than a pinprick.” If? Dammit. Slate knew this was the first time Primean had tested this contraption. Primean began to countdown, “3…2…1…”
Slate flexed his forearm instinctually before he heard a large explosion from across the room. A two-foot wide medicine ball shot toward his chest, crushing him against the solidly built chair. He vaguely remembered Primean staring at him with his laboratory notebook out before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
A pungent aroma brought Slate back to his senses. Primean had already healed any damage inflicted by the medicine ball and unstrapped his arms from the chair. Other than fatigue from the healing process and the memory of the medicine ball hurdling at him from across the room, he was no worse for wear. “Thanks for fixing me up, Master Primean.” Master Primean always healed his subjects after experiments, but no one checked to see if he healed you completely, so it was best to stay on his good side. “How did the experiment turn out?”
“I was pleased with my test setup. The knives successfully diverted your attention and prevented any preemptive physiologic response to the medicine ball. Unfortunately, the armor didn’t absorb your pain as I had hoped. The armor soaked up your sweat like a sponge when your body went into shock, but the pain remained…I guess it is back to the drawing board. Thanks for coming in…see you tomorrow?”
By fractal’s grace, Slate hoped he wouldn’t see Primean anytime soon. Slate flashed his best smile toward Primean. “Your discoveries are so exciting I can hardly stay away. Brannon requested that I serve as his attendant tonight, but I confess I don’t know where his office is located. Could you tell me?”
“Ahh…that is very good or very bad, young warlock. I hope you haven’t found yourself outside the good graces of the Head of our Order…” Slate relayed the story of the lecture hall duel, culminating in the launching of his body toward Lattimer. “Ha! Excellent, excellent. Brannon respects decisiveness, even in the face of orders, if it is the only way to succeed. I wouldn’t make a habit of embarrassing the Regallo name though.” Slate hid a grimace. “During the day, Brannon keeps his office at the top of the highest tower, but this time of day he will be at his home office. It is located on Rue Street. Do you think you’ll be able to find it?”
Finding the house wouldn’t be a problem. “I’ll figure it out. Thank you Master Primean. Have a good night.” Slate left the laboratory before Primean could dream up any corollary experiments and tried to push aside his anxiety at returning to the scene of his afternoon break-in.
As he exited Ispirtu and made his way through Ravinai, Slate considered the approaching dangers. Would the same guardsman be on duty? Surely the baker wouldn’t make two deliveries in one day. What about the clerk? Any decent clerk had a sharp eye for detail. Returning to the Regallo estate was a recipe for disaster, but he could see no way out of it. Before he
had the opportunity to devise a proper plan, he had arrived at the guardhouse of the Regallo estate.
“I’m Slate Severance. Brannon requested that I attend him this evening.” A different guardsman was on duty. He looked down at a list of names and opened the gate without giving Slate a second thought.
Slate headed for the front door with his head held high, despite his sense of foreboding. Slinking toward the door would incriminate him before he ever opened his mouth. A fatherly looking butler opened the massive oaken door before Slate had the chance to knock. “Welcome to the Regallo estate. Brannon is expecting you, but he is currently occupied with other business. I will show you to the sitting room until he is ready to meet you.”
“Thank you.” The butler showed him to a room with several uncomfortable looking chairs. They were undoubtedly expensive, but welcoming they were not. Slate sat on the overstuffed cushion and leaned against a chair-back that reminded him of Master Primean’s contraption. He missed his lounging pillows.
After a few minutes of shifting his weight on the chair, footsteps approached and Brannon’s voice carried into the room. “Thank you for your time, officer. A daylight break-in unsettled my wife greatly. I doubt she will take her mid-afternoon nap in peace for quite some time.”
“We will work diligently to resolve this matter. You can trust the soldiers of King Darik’s army to keep the streets of Ravinai safe.” The footsteps reached the front door and Brannon concluded the conversation. “I’m sure your team of crack investigators will find the culprit. Have a good evening.” Brannon’s comments were laced in sarcasm, which was lost on the poor officer. The door closed before a reply could be made.
Brannon bellowed for the butler. “Tell the guardhouse to double the security for the next two weeks. If anyone looks even remotely suspicious, I want them held for questioning. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir, and may I remind you that a Mr. Slate Severance is waiting in the sitting room.”
“Ah…thank you. You are dismissed.”
The headmaster of Ispirtu walked into the sitting room. Slate decided directness would best mask his trepidation at being associated with the afternoon’s events. “Is everything ok? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”
“Then Sicarius has taught you nothing. Some fool broke into my estate today. I’ve since reassigned the guardsmen on duty to the Pillar outpost. I’ve heard there is little left there to guard, so they shouldn’t have trouble fulfilling their duty.” Despite Slate’s best efforts, the anger showed on his face. Brannon continued, “I heard rumors that you witnessed Pillar’s destruction and now I know for certain. Control your anger. Follow me and we’ll discuss in my office.”
Slate bit his tongue and wiped the anger from his face, standing obediently and following the headmaster upstairs. They took the main stairwell, overlooking the great room with the view of the back of the estate. At the top of the stairs, Brannon turned on the catwalk toward the guarded room.
The office was everything you would expect from a wealthy, privileged egomaniac. Awards and gifts from other noble families, even King Darik himself, filled the walls. Brannon sat behind a gigantic desk, which served to protect him from interacting too closely with anyone seated in the small uncomfortable chair across from him. “Close the door.” Slate obliged and sat in the chair.
“When I first met you, I tested you for the spark and…finding you lacking a shred of magical ability, I assumed you would be as inconsequential to me as the rest of the Malethya masses. You are no longer inconsequential. You embarrassed the Regallo name at the tournament by spitting on the family crest, signed up for Ispirtu when you have no business there, and now you have attacked my son openly within a classroom. Your efforts have turned you into an annoyance but a mysterious one. Why did you attack Lattimer today?”
“It was the only way I could defend myself…” Slate responded.
“Horse shit. You weren’t in any danger. The fireball would have dissipated before it reached you.”
“I couldn’t be sure he would shoot a fireball at me. The shield would have only protected me from fire.”
“True…but still horse shit. You are a terrible liar. Add it to the things you need to work on.” Brannon’s comment quieted Slate for a second.
“Pride…I wanted to beat Lattimer.” Slate finally responded.
“Partially true…those are the best kinds of lies. You are learning. Why did you join Ispirtu? Why not just join Bellator and become a mindless weapon?”
Slate was already tiring of this line of questioning. “Before the tournament, my knowledge of magic could be summed up in a campfire story. Since then, someone has turned my hand to stone and nearly killed me in the process. I find out that there are enchanted weapons, armor, and scepters that turn a fair fight into something far from it. I was attacked by bandits as I left town only to find my hometown, peaceful Pillar, wiped out by someone. Magic seems to have played a hand in all of it. Joining Ispirtu seems to be the only way to make some sense of it all.” Slate couldn’t believe he had just said all of that to Brannon, of all people.
“There it is…and with a reason like that, it makes sense that you haven’t dropped out of Ispirtu yet. I would tell you that I had nothing to do with the events you just mentioned, but if you took me at my word you’d be an even bigger fool than I already believe.” Brannon leaned backwards in his chair, thinking. He idly formed a fireball in his hands and juggled it back and forth. “Ok, you can stay in Ispirtu. If you ever attack my son again, though, I’ll have you thrown out of the guild faster than I can throw a fireball.” As demonstration, the fireball rocketed toward a picture hanging on the wall but dissipated before it hit.
Brannon continued. “Now that we’ve settled that, what am I going to do with you? I don’t want you as a personal attendant because without the spark you are worthless to me in that capacity. It seems the best use of your time is to keep me up-to-date on the actions of my counterpart Villifor. You will continue to serve as my attendant and report to me once a week. Meanwhile, you will find out why Villifor has been traveling so regularly. Villifor was on one of these excursions when your parents were killed, so it would seem to serve both of our purposes.”
Slate sat quietly, slightly shocked at the turn of events and trying to process Brannon’s comments.
“You don’t trust me.” Brannon’s words were a comment, not a question.
“No.” Slate stated simply while looking the wizard in the eye.
“Good. Trust is given too freely to those with warm words and a nice smile. Real trust can only be earned through actions. Make me trust you, Slate, and someday you might find that you trust me as well. Now get out of my house. I think you have been here one too many times today…” Brannon turned his back to look out his office window, leaving Slate to find his own way out.
Slate ambled slowly on his way home, finding peace in the knowledge that the day’s activities were coming to an end. As he entered into the more tightly packed buildings of the city, he decided to take to the rooftops. The sun sat low in the sky and the solitude of the rooftops fit his mood. He could see why the Sicarius headmaster recommended their use. He passed overhead of an eatery, watching people dine and couples stare into each other’s eyes. He continued on, but the scene at the eatery made him think of Sana. Where was that girl? Their travels from Pillar had drawn them together, but Lucus’ orders for his apprentice coupled with his own hectic training left little time for romance.
The answer to his question came as Slate swung onto the balcony of his apartment. Sana enjoyed a drink with Rainier to end the evening. Even more pleasantly, Sana rose from her chair and greeted him with a kiss before he could say hello.
“I see you didn’t miss me enough to track me down.” Sana baited Slate, but Slate turned the subject in a safe direction. “Where have you been?”
“Lucus sent me on a mission after we returned to Ravinai. I’m meeting him tomorrow over lunch to report my findings, s
o tonight I thought I’d make sure you two weren’t getting into too much trouble without me.”
Rainier jumped in. “We wouldn’t dream of causing trouble. Take today for instance…After a morning of getting beaten to a pulp in Bellator and an encounter involving fireballs at Ispirtu, the Sicarius headmaster sent us on a mission. Our infallible leader chose to fulfill that mission by breaking into Brannon Regallo’s estate. Needless to say, the ill-fated misadventure required a well-timed rescue from a certain nomadic tribesman…and we haven’t even asked him how his night went yet.” Sana cast a stern look toward Slate, making her affectionate greeting vanish from memory.
Slate felt a lecture from Sana coming on and tried to cut it off before it began. “That about sums it up. I’m sure it was nothing compared to your adventures.” Slate’s father had deflected questions about their training by asking his mother the simple question “How was your day?” The question always brought an onslaught of activities and gossip from the town and by the time she had finished, she had forgotten all about her original question.
“I was digging through lost manuscripts in the Wizard Council’s library trying to research your ability to sense magic cast upon you. Now you put yourself in danger before we know what we’re up against? Sometimes you are the most fractal-forsaken fool I have ever met!”
Did that qualify as a lecture or a tirade? Maybe it was a combination of the two. Rainier took the opportunity to leave before Sana took the exhibition up a level or two. “Slate has me digging for information all over town in the morning, so I’m heading to bed. Sana, it’s great to see you again.”
He ducked into the apartment, and Sana’s diatribe continued without acknowledgment. “If you expect my help in your schemes, you better start coming up with better plans! I can’t be expected to save your neck every time you do something stupid enough to…” The door to Rainier’s room closed. Sana’s voice calmed immediately. “I enjoy Rainier’s company, but I wanted to talk with you alone. There is a very important question you forgot to ask. Did I miss you?”