Ritualist (The Completionist Chronicles Book 1)

by Dakota Krout

  “Your apprentice is alive, you know,” Joe tried to keep his tone conversational as his eyelashes curled from the heat, “but if I don't get him some food and water soon, he won’t be.”

  The flaming hand stopped moving closer but also didn’t back away. “If you are lying to me, I will burn every bit of your skin off before digging into the next layer. I will peel you like a potato.”

  Joe snorted a laugh, making the mage’s threats trail off in confusion. “A potato? Hah! Tell Cel that you called me a potato. He will laugh, I swear. Let’s go.”

  “He is really alive? He told you his name?” The mage couldn’t seem to reconcile his expectations with reality.

  “Yeah, we’re totally friends now.” Joe cautiously started walking away, moving toward his warehouse.

  “I don’t believe you. Cel’s company is not something a person enjoys.” The mage snorted with annoyance. “I can always kill you later, so let’s go save my apprentice.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to be saved?” Joe asked in a serious tone. “What if, when he sees you, he tells you to leave? He might come up with all manner of excuses, like telling you I am trapping you, I’m his new best friend, or that I’m actually a powerful mage and you should run away?”

  Haughtily, the mage looked Joe up and down. “I think that you used your most powerful spell already. I think it had no effect on me because I possess the dual affinities for earth and fire and simply unburied myself. I see no need to run from you, and I will explain this to him. Then you both will explain what the abyss is going on.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes before the mage started talking again, “So you are an earth mage? Or whatever the equivalent is for a self-trained hedge witch like yourself.”

  “Actually, no. I’m not really sure how I got on the college’s watch list. I have a single spell that could be classified as a mage ability, but I got it from my deity. I’m actually a cleric.”

  “A single mage spell is enough to draw us to you. Why didn’t you register with the college? You had to have heard of the consequences.”

  “Why should I register? Where is the benefit to me? I’m not looking for training or to boost my mage capabilities,” Joe carefully lied. “Why should I pay a King’s ransom simply not to be attacked for a spell I gained via divine providence?”

  The mage thought on that for a few minutes as they approached the warehouse. “I see your point, but it doesn’t matter. If you have a single mage-classed spell, you need to sign The Accords. It is the only way we have been able to maintain order in the Kingdom; it is what keeps powerful mages out of politics and government positions.”

  Joe kept his voice calm and tried to remain collected, “What if I simply cannot afford to pay? I am in a Noble Guild and am a guild officer. What if we made it a personal quest to kill you all? We are travelers; we’ll keep coming back if you kill us. Can you say the same? I also took a quest directly from the queen in the last few days. Is it really wise to make an enemy out of a huge portion of the population–especially those you can’t kill off–simply because they are using the abilities given to them? And it was given to me; I did not study for it or find my spell lying around. It was a quest reward.”

  “But why not sign The Accords?” The mage seemed frustrated, like Joe wasn’t hearing him. “All you need to do is list out your magical abilities, pay the hundred gold, and inform a certified teacher if you gain more magical abilities! You can keep your spell, and you will just need to pay a percentage of quest rewards to the college! You won’t be a licensed mage and cannot attain rank or training in your spells, but you won’t be hunted down!”

  Shock was written across Joe’s face. “What? I can just go in and get access to The Accords? I was told that the only way was to join the college and become a licensed mage for multiple thousands of gold!”

  The mage rubbed his temples. “This is why I told them we needed more publicity. Listen. Do you have a hundred gold?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, if Cel is safe, I will plead your case to the council and the Archmage. Either way, you will be brought into the college tomorrow. If you sign The Accords and they witness it–and you haven’t killed any mages–I will do my best to make sure you walk away with a clean record.”

  Charisma +1! You have reached an important milestone in the growth of your charisma! As you now have 15 charisma, you gain access to the basic skill of charismatic people: Speech.

  Skill gained: Speech (Novice I). Talk your way out of things, talk your way in! This skill adds a bonus equivalent to your skill level onto your charisma when attempting to convince another person or group of people to do something they normally would not. Only activates via talking. Chance for new or unique access to quests has increased!

  “That’s… very nice of you. We are here.” Joe distractedly walked up to the door and pulled out his key. As he was unlocking it, the mage coughed.

  “I’m not feeling very well, all of a sudden.” Indeed, the contrast of his red robes and green face clearly showed how sickly he was.

  “That’s just the building.” Joe motioned for him to wait at the door. “It’ll get worse for you the deeper into the building you go. I’ll go get Cel, don’t worry about coming in. Also, Cel and I are immune.”

  “I’m not going to wait here, and I’m not letting you out of my sight. Let’s go.” They stepped into the building, and the mage’s bowels made a low moaning noise. “We may need to move a bit faster.”

  “You have a couple options here. If you go further you will start puking and… well, I’m sure you can feel what else will happen. You can wait here, try your luck, or put some blood in this chalice.” Joe pulled the tarnished cup out of his ring. “I’ll bring it over there, and you will feel better right away.”

  Ignoring him, the mage looked across the room where his apprentice was standing. “Cel! You’re alive!”

  “Master?” Cel could only see silhouettes, as they were framed by the light coming through the doorway. “Don’t do anything that man asks you too! He is an evil, conniving-”

  “Don’t worry about him. He will be signing The Accords in the morning, Cel.” The mage told him equitably.

  “What? No way! He went out of his way to convince me how evil the college was! He tried to tell me that The Accords are shackles that keep us under the thumb of the Archmage! How we are incredibly weak because it is impossible for commoners and rogue mages to enter our ranks!” Cel was almost shaking. “All of that rhetoric against the college and he is joining?”

  The mage seemed frozen in place, his face aghast. “He told you all of that?”

  “Yes!”

  “If… if you went back to the college tonight, would you feel the need to explain your whereabouts and what he told you to your colleagues?” the mage inquired, voice deadly calm.

  “Of course! I need to discuss this with them so that we can study The Accords further and have a valid explanation against this line of reasoning in the future!” Cel’s voice trailed off as he saw the shock in his master’s posture.

  “In that case… Cel, I can’t take you back with me tonight. You were already on the verge of increasing your rank, and with this information and attitude toward it… I can’t allow you to be around other mages until you sign The Accords a second time.” The mage seemed sorrowful, and his hands were clenched to the point of draining color away.

  “What are you talking about? Master! You can’t mean to leave me here! Why?” Cel shouted across the room in a hoarse voice. Drat, Joe had forgotten to leave him drinking water again.

  “Isn’t it obvious, Cel?” Joe crossed his arms and stared at the red-robed mage. “It is because what I said is the truth. Your master is under the same compulsion that you will be, a more advanced version of what you are sworn to. Master mage, tell me a single negative thing about The Accords. Anything at all. Tell me you don’t like the quill they made you sign with! Say the font was a dumb choice or that it was written
in comic sans! Perhaps there was poor lighting in the area it’s stored in?”

  The mage opened his mouth, closed it and looked away. Joe snorted through his nose. “As I thought. You can’t say anything against it. You also can’t let someone go against The Accords, am I correct? A stay of execution is the best you can do?”

  Still looking away, the mage made a motion that could almost be considered a nod. His voice came out as a whisper, “I can’t let Cel go back right now. If he started speaking out, someone might kill him. I… would have to kill him.”

  “Master. No. You can’t be serious.” Cel sunk to the floor. On his knees, he grabbed his hair with both hands. “We’ve become little better than slaves? I… I can’t…”

  “If you don’t think of it like that, life is far more manageable,” the mage spoke softly. “Think of The Accords as you always have, a force for good in the Kingdom. There isn’t any other way to justify… what we have. To. Do.” He struggled to get out the last words and seemed to be in pain even from that light disagreement. He took a deep, shuddering breath before turning bloodshot eyes to Joe. “I’ll come back for you in the morning. Can you keep him here? If you do so and don’t cause problems, I’ll pay you back half of the fee for signing The Accords. ...Why did you have to explain his position in the-” He coughed blood.

  “I’ll keep him here,” Joe promised solemnly. The mage closed his mouth with a loud *click*, nodded, and turned toward the door.

  “Master! You can’t!” Cel called brokenly, standing as close to the edge of his containment as he could get.

  The mage grit his teeth. “You are wrong, Cel. I literally need to. As much as I don’t-” He started to choke and grabbed at his throat. He was still for a few seconds, then reached into a satchel at his side. Three bottles that should not have fit into the bag appeared, each glowing a bright blue color. “Take these. Whatever you are doing to contain him, just make sure it holds.”

  Joe held the bottles and tried to inspect them.

  Perception check failed! Intelligence check versus contextual evidence and past experience… success!

  Item acquired: Concentrated mana rejuvenation potion x3. Restores 300 mana over five seconds, triples mana regeneration for one minute. Item rarity: Artificially Rare (Common).

  “Those are only allowed to be produced or sold in the mage’s college, in case you are wondering why such a useful item isn’t found in shops.” The mage released a sound that resembled a laugh, but it was obvious that it was simply a strangled sob. “Yet another product that benefits our great school. Make sure you are here at sunup and don’t cause problems for us, or you will be declared a warlock as well as a rogue.”

  Storing the potions, Joe nodded at the mage. The red-robed man made a motion that could be mistaken for wiping his eyes and walked out the door. Retching sounds echoed faintly into the building, but Joe had a feeling that it was not because of his active rituals.

  ~ Chapter Thirty-five ~

  Joe clapped and smiled brightly. “Well, that was horrible and heartbreaking!” Cel glared at him, tears openly streaming down his face.

  “You are… how can you be so willing to throw yourself into servitude?” Cel growled brokenly. “You should run while you still can. Vanish into the city. I have no choice but to accept my-” He erupted into a coughing fit, surprise written large on his face.

  “Looks like The Accords are punishing you a bit.” Joe watched as Cel’s face turned purple and the coughs became flecked with blood. He sent a healing spell at Cel, just to be on the safe side. “Why don’t you eat dinner and get some rest?”

  “Why don’t you let me ruminate about my fate?” Cel choked out a dramatic rebuttal.

  “You do whatever you need to do.” Joe pulled out his book on rituals and sat down for a long study session. An hour passed in near silence, the only sound being the scratching of a quill and various soft sobbing noises. Joe looked up when Cel quieted down fully. “Your master called me a warlock, then later seemed to change his mind and told me that I would be declared a warlock. I thought that was just a type of spell caster, someone who debuffs others or summons beings to fight for him?”

  “No. Well, yes, they can be warlocks. It is a title given to those who break oaths. Not everyone can make a mana contract, and most people don’t want to be bound by soul-crushing pain or death if they violate a contract. So they make deals, oaths. If you break your word of honor, you are despised by any who can see the title.” Cel seemed to be exhausted; he didn’t even look over while speaking. “This is one of the few titles that can’t be revoked or changed by a deity, since honor is only amongst people. Only the wronged party, a magistrate, or the King can rule against the title and lift the restrictions it imposes. Even then, any but the wronged party can only revoke the title if the reason for breaking the oath was just, such as an oath specifically pledged under duress or for the greater good of the Kingdom.”

  “That’s pretty specific.” Joe was quiet for a short while. “Sounds like it would be a fairly common title then.”

  “Oh, it is,” Cel responded dully. “The title fits the oath broken though. A serious oath, such as leaving your men to die or sacrificing another you pledged to protect, will impact your interactions greatly and give you a negative balance on your karmic luck.”

  “Karmic luck? Do you have an explanation for that?” Joe perked up; this was one of the few stats he knew nothing about.

  “I don’t. All I know is that you never want it to be negative.” Cel fell silent again.

  “I see.” Joe kept studying his book, trying to find a way to survive the upcoming day. His eyes lit up as he thought of a single possibility. “Reversing it? Would that even work? I can’t risk it. What if I changed it? If I added this, no, the power requirement would be too high. Combining it? That might work. I’d need an additional circle though. Apprentice level. This might get messy.”

  He shuddered and got to work on creating a new ritual. Time began to creep by, and once he finished his work, there were only a few hours remaining until dawn. Joe’s eyelids were sagging, trying to force him to accept the embrace of Morpheus. He powered through, keenly feeling the need to stay alive. Fear of potential slavery or death was a good motivator. Joe began drawing out the spell circles, knowing he needed to be precise but also doing his best to draw quickly. Every time he made a mistake and needed to remake a portion, he growled at himself and his wasteful actions.

  Skill increase: Drawing (Novice V). Control of the body starts with control of the mind. Control of chalk was supposed to start as a child. Whatever, right? You got a tiny bit better at a mundane task!

  An hour before dawn, he shook Cel awake. “Cel, I was hoping to ask a favor of you.”

  “Are you being serious right now?” Cel sleepily replied, tiredness and angst coloring his voice. “Why in the world would I help you willingly?”

  “I’d just really like to survive the day. I have no doubt that once I am near The Accords, at least one person will try to kill me. Ask yourself this, Cel. Do you want me to sign The Accords or die before I get there?”

  Cel seemed to struggle with himself for a long moment. Grudgingly, he answered, “I want you to sign them.”

  “Thank you, Cel,” Joe stated warmly. When he turned so that Cel couldn’t see his face, his eyes hardened. He already knew that The Accords subtly influenced the mind of whoever signed them. This was proof that The Accords wanted to grow and impact more people. He remembered the words of the owner of the Odds and Ends store; an enchanted item was alive, if just barely. He was sure that a magical contract that had thousands ensnared and had lasted for hundreds of years had a more developed ego. It wanted to grow, to have more people trapped in its binding words, or it could be that Cel wasn’t a terrible human being and didn’t want a fairly innocent person to die for no reason. Could really go either way.

  “Here is what I need you to do. I am creating a ritual, and you don’t need to help. I’m just going to give y
ou a mana potion and hope that you keep yourself alive by restoring your mana when the ritual tries to kill you. Thanks!” Joe grinned evilly and marched toward the ritual as Cel gave off an indignant squeaking sound.

  Placing his scepter in the innermost ring, Joe started pouring mana into the ritual. The power draw was massive with three rings, and even with his ability to only pay half of the final cost, the ritual was demanding nineteen hundred mana. The first circle activated without issue, leaving Joe with mana to spare. The second circle began to pull power, and he became a bit worried. When the first had been pulling mana, it was at a rate he was used to. The second one was draining him almost twice as fast. As he approached ten percent remaining in his mana pool, the power draw switched over to Cel.

  The young mage cried out as he felt his mana channels straining to direct the flow of power. Though he really didn’t want to help his captor, if he let the power run out of his body in a disordered fashion, he might be torn apart. Joe took this opportunity to drink the first mana potion and felt a sense of relief and clarity as his mana was restored. With triple mana regeneration, he was quickly coming back to full strength.

  Cel dropped to five percent mana before the burden of the ritual switched back to Joe. He reached for the mana potion with trembling hands but was caught off guard when Joe managed to say, “No! Wait… for… signal! Or we both die!”

  The mage wavered, hesitating as mana exhaustion clouded his thoughts. He was not used to getting his mana pool below half, ever. It wasn’t allowed since you never knew when a commoner was going to attack you for no good reason. Therefore all mages were taught to keep half of their mana pool for emergencies. Hand shaking, Cel brought the potion bottle to his lips.

  Joe was focusing on his mana expenditure, watching with awe as his mana regeneration fought against the rapid power suck of the ritual. With triple regeneration for one minute, he was generating a tiny bit more than twenty mana a second. It was fascinating to watch his mana decline at what appeared to be a very slow rate, about ten mana a second. So the ritual was pulling thirty per second? They could do this, they just needed to hold on!