《Alice's Saga of Fire and Blood》


 Prologue: Schemes & Shadows

    The city of Natieburg lies on an island in the middle of the giant Naties river, both named after an ancient deity. Few people remember the name of said god anymore, but Natieburg is renowned throughout the Midderns. It¡¯s strong defensive position and placement on the river made it an important economical stronghold, and it also had the only viable river-crossing for several miles. Settlements had existed here for over a millennium, and the island changed own-ership several times during this time. Currently, it belongs to the Gerhardts, a noble Kleureckian family and vassals of King Alfons.


    Just outside the walls lay a large harbour with all the necessary authorities and business needed for seabound mercantile. Here lay also several taverns, one in which we find can find a man of ill repute. His name is Vangelo, and he is a thief. His frame is unassuming due to his heavy black coat, but underneath he is as trained as an elite athlete. His deep green eyes and black hair are his only distinguishing features, his face could only draw attention in its inconspicuous nature. This was all according to plan, for the man was indeed a scoundrel who sought to deceive any and all potential targets. He spent a few moments looking over the crowd while taking sips from a cup of local brew. After seeing neither interesting characters nor anyone looking his way, he put a silver coin on his table and left the tavern.


    He sauntered down to the river shore. A circus had come to town and set up camp at a prime fishing location, which obviously caused some irate fishermen to make complaints to the local law. They attempted to evict them twice but ended up with elongated ears and droopy noses as a result. The chief of law gave up, as they were not causing any real harm and had never kept the fishermen from fishing in the first place, even if they were indeed a curious pack. Among them could be found a man Vangelo had met many years ago in a Saragesian prison, an incredible acrobat named Ghil. But Ghils talents did not end at his physical abilities. He was also a master mage with quite a few magical tricks up his sleeve. Supposedly undetectable if his claims were to be believed. He had confided in Vangelo after the latter had the former¡¯s back in a brawl with the prison-guards. They were thrown into the Pit, a 20metre deep hole with a slick surface and runescript on the walls, negating any use of magic. The entire prison was obviously protected by a barrier to keep magic locked inside, but in the hole the effect was heightened to prevent conjuration of even the most basic food and the like, supplies that could make the experience milder. In those dark depths, time moved slow, and the men slowly but surely started conversing. By the end of the three-day sentence they were deeply intertwined spiritually, and friendship soon bloomed from the experience.


    Vangelo went straight through the camp towards the riverbank. Suspicious glares shot his way, but he ignored them. If any true danger came his way, the pebble kept in his right pocket would let him know by vibrating. He found Ghil hanging by his feet from a line tied across the river, silently humming to himself. Ghil appreciated the act of meditating deeply and considered it an essential part of his abilities. ¡±Meditation centers my physical and spiritual being within myself. It gives me focus and a calm mind that makes what I do possible. Most people would be busy thinking about all manner of things while doing these moves: how fast am I going, what if my grip slips, where do I go next. It clouds your focus. With clear focus you can think while you act and create a more flowing movement. It is all in the spirit, my man.¡±, he once told Vangelo. To him, Ghils philosophy sounded like ramblings but he supposed it was a personal thing. As for the hanging upside down, Ghil always did like attention.


    He stepped down to the shore and crouched down by the water. He grabbed a stone and threw it casually at Ghils reflection. The rogue kept his eyes shut as he opened his mouth to speak:


    ¡± I couldn¡¯t hear your breathing dear friend, I take it the training paid off?¡±


    ¡± How could you tell it was me, could have been a farmhand come to fawn over the boastful acrobats.¡±


    ¡± Ough, not my pride, Vangelo. You know that mean comments makes me all sad inside. I could tell because you still have the same stomplike walking pattern. They teach you to conceal your breath but not change your habits? So much for being untraceable. Sloppy.¡±


    ¡± They¡± refered to a group of thieves the pair had met in jail, led by a man who called himself Yujak. Yujak and his band considered their own abilities of subterfuge superior to all others, and so Vangelo slowly developed a relationship with the group by performing small tasks for them. Smuggling contraband, taking blame for ¡±disagreements¡± with guards and even assisting in the occasional murder of rival inmates. After his release he sought them out to learn what they had to teach.


    ¡± Turns out Yujak had a pretty big mouth that fed his ego beyond what could be delivered. He perished along with his group when guards stumbled upon them mid-heist in some country noblemans estate.¡± Vangelo left out the part where he had informed the guards of the bands actions. He knew that Ghil would understand. ¡±This breathing technique is all I really have that is of any use to us. I can however cook a delightful duck over flames and tie about 30 different knots. So there is that I suppose.¡±


    ¡± At least it is one less group to compete with. Now I take it you didn¡¯t come find me only to tell me tales of third rate thieves and their lackluster skills.¡± Ghil spoke with a soft voice, his eyes still closed and his face in a completely serene expression.


    ¡± Indeed, old boy. I have something. Something that will pique your interest without fail. However, I fear that curious eyes and ears might snatch it right from us. Meet me at Elsatoria in two days time, I¡¯ll prepare a secure room for us. Think ¡¯Anastasia¡¯, Ghil.¡±


    At the mention of Anastasia, Ghil¡¯s eyes flew open and he turned towards Vangelo, but his friend had already turned and walked briskly up the riverbank towards the camp. A sensation spread through Ghil¡¯s body, a combination of exhilaration, glee¡­ and fear. Anastasia was his deceased love, a fierce soul with burning auburn hair and eyes like a stormy sea. She had been executed for heresy in Ballakonika nearly a decade ago, an event that had led Ghil down a dark path of debauchery and depression. He hunted down her executors, ending their lives slowly and gruesomely, and was finally captured in Sargonia for theft. However, the Ballaks and the Sargonians were at open war with each other, and so he was simply imprisoned for his crime. In prison he had battled the darkness that consumed him from inside for months when he had a vision of himself and Anastasia reunited on top of a gallow of gold with the monarchs of Sargonia, Ballakonika and Haggagrio hanging by their necks from chains of silver. As he woke up he could have sworn that he still felt her lips on his. From that day, he had gained a second wind in life. He met Vangelo a year after and told him of his vision. He knew Vangelo didn¡¯t believe in superstition, visions and clairvoyance but his friend was none the less supportive. ¡°I too have lost precious things to zealots¡±, and so they swore in blood to assist the other if the time came when their goals where within reach. They were not weary of the sacreligious ritual for they had nothing left to lose.


    His reminicing was interrupted when he felt he was being watched by malicious eyes. He turned his head towards the camp and he saw, quite far away, the latest addition to the performing troupe staring at him. It was a young man who always wore a lavish mask from the Saragesian masquerades of old. The only thing he could see of his face were his almost glowing eyes, a pale lemon yellow that pierced deep into anyones soul. He hadn¡¯t given any name or title when joining, so the showgirls named him Limoneia because of his eyes. He stared straight into Ghil¡¯s eyes for a moment before he slowly turned and went towards the cantine. Ghil felt a chill run down his spine. He didn¡¯t trust the masked man; he never flinched even when accidentally struck by a knife during a rehearsal and his breathing was so regular as to be irregular, it was as if he was ghost manifesting a physical form. Beyond anything concerning mortals, and yet by any measure there and alive.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He stretched up and grabbed the line with his hand and then swiftly made his way towards shore. After a swift dismount he made his way towards his own tent. It was furthest from the wall, next to a massive field that stretched for miles, only interrupted by small dirtroads and paths leading towards small villages and farmsteads. His wish had been to be placed near the river, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers and the field was serene enough for him to sleep calmly. He had developed a theory that sleeping in an environment that was calm would in turn bless his dreams, and ever since he started living after this theorem not a single nightmare had troubled him.


    His tent was not grand, but it did fit a myriad of personal treasures, strange magical utilities and a hammock. He refused to sleep on a cot or on the floor. An exotic musk was ever present around his tent, something that gave him some subtle privacy since most people would give the tent a wide berth for fear of falling under some form of transic spell. The smells were from harmless incense and ingredients, but Ghil was not about to tell anyone that. He prepared a diguise for the evening, as well as a magical alibi. He scrounged up a cream hidden in a pile and rubbed it on his left pinky finger. The finger slowly began to dissolve and reform as a full-size clone of Ghil, a perfect replica. The replica could not speak or think really, but it was only going to be sleeping anyway until Ghil returned, after which it would once more return to being just a pinky. It laid down in the hammock and soon started snoring. Ghil placed another cream on his chin and cheeks and dabbed it lightly on his lip. A beard and mustache swiftly formed from the cream, and he snapped his fingers to turn it a dark red. He then dressed in an inconspicious outfit of a coat, sailors hat and working-class trousers. When he was finished with the diguise he took a deep breath and jumped lightly in the air. As he landed his body vanished into the earth. It reappeared down by the river, a place Ghil had distinctly imprinted to memory. Transporting himself like so could be dangerous unless you knew the destination perfectly. He made sure that there was no one aware of him, and then set off towards the city with a brisk walk. He passed through the gates of the huge walls and made his way towards the tavern by small winding alleys and streets. People passed him by in a general hurry; they ran the gambit from old maids returning from the market to errant children sprinting from pursuing guards. Ghil remained in the perfect spot of inconspicuousness. He stood out just enough to be ordinary. Before long, he was at the Elsatoria, a midsize three floor tavern for travellers and merchants. A perfect location to stand aside from the focus of others. The door was open, and a musical troupe could be heard from inside, singing songs of the countryside. After making his way inside he walked up one flight of stairs to a balcony overlooking the first floor, sat down at a table and brought out a pipe. He quickly prepared and lit the tobacco inside after which he whipped forth a small book, Archives of the Kaleian Dynasty. The Kaleians were a noble family from the west that died out a century back, and their alleged endless treasury had yet to be found. Naturally, a subject of interest to the two thieves who used the subject as a signal to one another. Sure enough, a few moments later a man took a seat next to him at the table. He wore an emerald coat and a wide-brimmed hat, with only his glimmering orange eyes visible in the darkness, but Ghil could tell that it was Vangelo by the rhythm of his breathing, or rather lack there-of. The smoke from Ghils pipe inconspicuously enveloped the table like a bubble, a magic precaution to keep curious ears from hearing their sensitive conversation. Vangelo started speaking in a low voice once the coast was clear.


    ¡°I take it you were not followed here. Good. Now, listen carefully. A few nights past I met a man in a town down south who claimed to be the former treasurer of the royal family in Klereucken, personally chosen by the late King Alfons Hake. Seems the Crown Prince saw fit to renew his cabinet immediately after his coronation, and so about eight tenths of the nobles at court were thrown out and replaced by younger allies of the prince¡¯s. Naturally, it aggravated quite a few of these stroppy old fools, and said treasurer blabbed eagerly about various pieces the royal family kept in their vaults. Among them was an old signet ring of Hildefons, the Bull of Veffel. I¡¯m sure you can recall someone who would be quite interested in it.¡±


    Ghil leaned in towards Vangelo, and replied softly: ¡°Is it really the ring that Cavod yammered on about?¡±


    A smile crept over Vangelos darkened face. ¡°The very same, I had it described in detail, and it would indeed seem to be the same ring. It¡¯s true that we have nothing but anecdotal proof but considering Hildefons was indeed Klereuckean it doesn not seem too far fetched. The story does not end there however. Another patron approached the man asking about details, where the relic could be found. It is resting in a chamber inside the Lockbox and is under permanent guard as well as protected by countless charms and magic seals. Impenetrable for anyone who is not privy to its secrets. Unfortunately, the good old treasurer had his memories locked away with what appears to be a bronze chain. Not broken so easily.¡±


    Ghil leaned back in his chair. ¡°I take it you found a way to crack it then?¡±


    Once more a grin spread across Vangelos shadowy face. ¡°Aye, the other patron was a cerebral expert. It took us about two days, but we did break the seal. Our poor treasurer sadly did not survive the procedure, but we have a complete schematic of the Lockbox¡¯s innards. Every trap, seal, lock and barrier mapped out. We can get in, Ghil. And here¡¯s the best part: our partner, who called himself Pascci, apparently works with a small party of magical experts around the world. One of them is researching reanimation. And before you scoff with skepticism, I saw it with my own eyes, Ghil. A dead flower returned to life, with no defects. Obviously, a flower is not a person, but it is promising, no?¡±


    Ghil stared at his feet for a moment, heavy in thought. Vangelo leaned back and brought forth a big cigar. He lit it and took a few puffs. ¡°It would be preferable if we can have it done within a week. If you are in, we should start planning and preparing right away. I have a sketch of a plan ready that you should look over for any mistakes or points that might result in failure.¡±


    Ghil did not take his eyes from his feet as he began to speak. ¡°This reanimation...was it a gruesome thing, or did it appear holy and pure? I would not have her rise...a husk, or worse.¡±


    Vangelo placed a supportive hand on Ghils shoulder. ¡°It was shocking, but certainly miraculous and pure. Trust me, Ghil, it is worth a try.¡±


    Ghil looked his friend in the eyes. Vangelos eyes may have been transformed, but deep within them Ghil could see the honesty of his intentions. The skepticism Ghil felt was in no way a sign of distrust towards his dearest friend, nor was it serious doubt towards the plan. It was more a feeling of disbelief towards the fact that he could ever hold his beloved in his arms once more. An interanl moral battle raged as to wether he could trust the purity of the magics used for these resurrective experiments. What if she was not resurrected, and it was in fact an imposter, a walking carcass decked out in a fine disguise that appeared before him as his one and only love. Could he perhaps learn to love such a thing? Maybe...


    No, the thought revolted his insides as soon as it had entered his mind. It was an offense towards Anastasia, an insult that he would never suffer unto her. However, he was desperate, and it was a unique opportunity...


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯m with you. Let¡¯s see this plan of yours.¡±


    A massive, gleeful smile poked out of the shades on Vangelos face. He hastily pulled forth a scroll of parchment and unfurled it across the table as he spoke. ¡°Fantastic. I knew you would be interested. Now I have already done some scouting of the surrounding areas and the men on guard...¡±


    As Vangelo described his plan to Ghil, surrounded by the sound-dampening cloud of smoke, a shadow crept across the ceiling. It was almost unnoticeable in the candlelit tavern, but it formed the shape of a man. The shadow came closer and closer until it stopped above the two thieves table. Two eyelids formed in the black shade, and when they opened a pair of pale eyes peered down onto the scroll, lemon yellow their colour.

 Prologue - The Lockbox

    Two nights thence, we find the two rogues atop the roof of warehouse overlooking the incredible structure that was the Lockbox. It was not the tallest or largest building in the city but it¡¯s construction was something of a marvel unto itself. Completely sealed apart from the gate, sporting thick granite walls reinforced with black steel and bound, from base to top, in protective runes. The gate was magical and opened only in one of three ways: by a signet only the king possessed, a secret phrase that was changed every new guard-cycle or a brute force strong enough to shatter the door completely. However, there were other ways of entering the building. Secret passages and cracks in the extensive security system that would allow the burglarising pair to enter, hopefully completely undetected. The Lockbox always had a guard detail of 20 men who lived in a room just past the vestibule, with the guards changed every 4<sup>th</sup> day and their memories erased, an easy process given the shorter time span. The older and more experienced master treasurer, on the other hand, had such extensive knowledge of the site that his memories of it were instead locked away using cerebral magic, involving a finely crafted bronze chain and the expertise of the finest cerebromantics, magicians specialised in magics involving the soul and the mind, that the royal court could afford.


    Cerebromancy was one of the more difficult fields of magical study, as so much of it dealt with the abstract concepts of souls and minds. A master of the craft would potentially be able to dominate his or her fellow man, while a novice delving too deep in its mysteries could easily find it their end. Luckily for Vangelo, he had found one of these masters, and breaking the chain proved doable. The difficulties of unlocking memories lay primarily in the act of keeping the subject alive. Once it was clear between Vangelo and Pascci that the treasurer¡¯s wellbeing was no priority to either of them, the process proved much easier. Vangelo did not relish the action, although memories of men with a title like the treasurer spitting his mother in the face when she begged them for a coin. These memories made the action substantially easier on his mind, even if it was still gruesome.


    The plan was quite complex, and required the coordinated skills of the two friendly thieves to succeed. Step one was to teleport inside, which during normal circumstances was a completely impossible action. The runes on the outside protected the building from various magical effects, foremost of which were teleportation and phasing, meaning to pass through the wall. There was one very small spot in the corner of the hallway that ties the outer gate to the inner guardpost however. Ghil had been provided extensive memories of this hallway from the treasurer¡¯s mind, but the move was still very unreliable, with a one in three chance of minor errors in the execution. Anyone who ever tried teleportation and ended upp with a toe inside a rock or an arm fused with a wall would tell you that even small issues could prove quite dangerous. Assuming that the process went smoothly, the next step would be to incapacitate the guard at the inner gate, and then replace him with a timebased clone. Unnecessary killing was unworthy of their professional nature. Step three was to proceed through the gate, down the hallway passing the guards¡¯ canteen as they went and getting to the vault gate. Now the gate was a piece unto itself, making the outer magical defenses look weak in its reinforcement. For this fourth step, the two thieves would use assistance provided by Pascci and his group. Their chief on complex magical engineering had supplied them with an automated safecracker. It looked like a small beetle, matte black and constantly humming. Once inside the lock on the vault door, this little beetle would dissolve and spread in the cogs of the locking mechanism and then bind to them. Given some time, this beetle would then, with a slim chance of error, unlock the massive door, at which point an alarm would normally be triggered. The alarm could however be suppressed, the action requiring an exceedingly precise timing. The fact that few others in the world could accomplish this deed was not lost on Vangelo and Ghil. They would only get one shot at this; should they fail they would never see sunlight again. King Alfons was not known for his bleeding heart, nor his softness towards criminals. His reaction would be twofold, swift and merciless at the offset followed by a slow and patient towards the latter half. Once inside the vault they would be at a disadvantage for their escape, requiring an extraction from the way they arrived. A suboptimal solution with the biggest risk of failure, and yet the route deemed most viable.


    Having reviewed the plan in depth multiple times the two rogues merely awaited an opportune moment to strike. It was late into the night; the birds were silent, and the trees were still. Ghil gave Vangelo a questioning look, as to suggest that the conditions could be better. The sounds of birds chirping and small mammals moving about the shrubbery could provide some very useful noise to conceal their movement. Vangelo looked down toward the road before the massive structure. As he pondered their conditions, a strong breeze suddenly cascaded over the scene, rustling the leaves on the trees and making the old buildings creak. Vangelo and Ghil both knew that this moment was perfect. No words needed to cross between them, no contact. Ghil grabbed his compatriot¡¯s neck and lunged them forward at incredible speed, their bodies on a course for the solid walls. The moment before they struck the granite, they vanished. The timing was impeccable, they reappeared perfectly on the other side of the wall. They paused briefly, only listening for any reaction within the building, magical or otherwise. The seconds passed, one by one. After precisely a minute, the rogues made eye-contact and nodded. They were in and they still had an advantage. The hallway before them was completely featureless apart from the gates at each end. So far, so good. Their provided memories had been proven correct. Now the guard that was on watch on the other side of the gate was next on the list of priorities. Vangelo gestured with his hand, and Ghil swiftly teleported the two men across the hallway to the inner gate. Without hesitation, Vangelo then leapt to the right of the door while Ghil lunged through the massive wall to the left. He phased right through and pulled a panicking guard, large and brutish, from the other side. The two struggled, the guard clearly being physically larger and stronger but Ghil being tenacious and flexible. The guard screamed, but his tongue twisted inward whenever he tried, a favourite trick of Ghil¡¯s. Vangelo seized the moment and quickly sprinted to stab the man with a short needle-like blade at any of the weak points in his armour. It was dipped in a poison that would put the large man to sleep for hours, by which point the burglars would be long gone. His first stab missed the target as the entangled pair thrashed about wildly. His second caught the man in the gap between his shoulder and torso. It embedded itself into the man¡¯s shoulder, and his struggle soon yielded. Ghil collected himself and the two then took a moment to listen for a reaction. Even though the struggle had been well handled by the two, it had generated quite a bit of commotion.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The building remained still, and the two took a deep breath of relief before swiftly progressing to the next part of the plan. Ghil whiskered forth some of the balm he had used to clone himself and applied it to the man¡¯s right hand, careful not to get some of it on himself. The more of his body that was used for the cloning process, the more useful the clone would be. For something so simple as to make it seem that Ghil was sleeping, only a finger was necessary as it needed only to lie still. For a guard that was expected to stand at attention, it was necessary to use far more. Ghil ended up using the man¡¯s entire arm up to the shoulder. The clone formed, and while it was not exactly perfect it did look like the man and did respond to basic instruction. With it formed, Ghil carefully phased through the wall once more with the clone and placed him at attention. He then returned for Vangelo, and once on the other side they made another incredible leap towards the far end of the T shaped hall. Ahead was the vault, to the left was the guards¡¯ quarters. They could hear the guards faint conversation coming from the canteen, the part of their quarters closest to the vault as to be available and alert for anything. Before them was the incredible vault door. Impenetrable, allegedly, unless by great force. Well, thought the two rogues in unison, let¡¯s put it to the test. Vangelo gently brought forth the little beetle. It was humming ever so slightly, and when he placed it on the vault door it sprouted legs and scuttled towards the edge of the door. It suddenly stopped a bolt over hole where the King would put his signet and dissolved itself. Matte black liquid seeped into the hole and made its way through miniature cracks in the metal, deeper and deeper until it made contact with the cogs and innards of the lock itself. It was covered in magical protection and alarms. The black liquid washed over the cogs and bonded itself to them, washing away the magics and moving the cogs slowly. Ghil and Vangelo listened in agony as the lock made various mechanical noises. Every tick was like a jolt of lightning for the two thieves, their bodies tensed up, ready to dart down the hallway for escape at any sign of failure. Tick, tick, tick.


    After about three minutes of elapsed time, the ticking stopped, and the handle turned. The two rogues stopped breathing as the massive door slowly swung open to reveal the treasures within. Hoards of old artifacts of various shapes and forms lay within. Ancient rusty swords, bookcases full of strange volumes and suspicious, twitching scrolls, piles of gold that melted before their eyes and then reformed again. Vangelo took cautious steps inside, mindful not to step on something besides the tiled floor. If the vault were to shut them in, they would have no chance of escaping, and so Ghil stayed outside. Vangelo made his way around the room looking for the old ring. As he reached a desk with some official documents on it, a small wooden box on top of a pile of parchment caught his eye. He gently picked up the small box and slowly opened it. Within was the ring, he recognized it from the memories provided by Pascci. He made for the vault door but¡­couldn¡¯t move. Something was holding him in place. He saw Ghil paralyzed by the entrance, his body contorted in pain. Their panicking stares darted around the room, searching for a cause for their sudden predicament. Looking at the ceiling of the vault, Vangelo noticed something in the shadows. Two¡­eyes, staring right into his. ¡°It took you a while now, didn¡¯t it¡­¡±. The piercing gaze opened something within Vangelo, he felt as if he was spread out like a scroll with all his secrets laid bare. The eyes turned towards Ghil, burrowing deep into his soul. Ghil knew them immediately, they were a cold lemon colour. ¡°Yes, acrobat. You know me, and you were right to be weary of me. I fear you shall never know to what end you have been used, and you have my sincerest condolences for what is about to happen.¡±


    An arm made of darkness reached out of the shadow and grabbed something on the desk. In the corner of their paralyzed gaze, the men could barely make out something gleaming in the light as it was hastily ferried into the ceiling. Another two shadow arms then appeared bearing two chains with a little silver hook at the end. The cold pale lemon eyes looked...empathic for a second, but soon hardened as the chains shot out straight into the skulls of the two men. It phased right through the skin and bones, and as it struck the meat inside a searing, radiating pain set in. Their memories were being wiped, the chain crushing their memories but leaving their physical being intact. Soon their eyes turned blank, their bodies trapped in an upright position. The chains and arms evaporated, and new arms of shadow appeared, this time with what looked like small seeds, faintly glowing. The arms stretched towards the same place where the chains had pierced only moments ago.


    They phased through the skulls of the two men and, after the seed had been planted in the minds of the two men, disappeared much like before. Meanwhile, the ring in the small box floated slowly towards the shadow on the ceiling, disappearing into the darkness. The shadow then hastily made its way toward the exit, casting one final gaze, betraying a hint of regret, upon the two rogues before leaving.


    It was first come morning that alarm was raised and all hell broke loose. The guards flooded the vault and were puzzled by what they found. Inside they found two bodies, apparently killed in a struggle amidst each other. One with half his leg melted off in puddle on the floor, the other with a dagger embedded in his skull with such force that the handle had broken off. Why they had fought would remain unknown to all but Limoneia and the two burglars. A serious investigation was launched into how they had broken into the supposedly impenetrable fortress, but their motives was assumed as greed and the case closed. The defences of the Lockbox were overhauled and the guards subjected to decimation, the act of killing a number of the men to both punish and inject discipline into the unit. It was the last major attempt to breach the Lockbox until the kingdom fell to ruin a quarter of a century later.


    The same morning that the deed was discovered, half a continent to the east a young woman stirs from the rays of the morning sun through her window, oblivious to how this event would change her life.

 Chapter 1: A Test

    <h1></h1>


    The morning was sunny and still. The city of Marum in northern Saragesia was slowly awakening to face the day ahead. Butchers stretched their bodies and set about preparing the meat, town officials rushed down the streets to meet their stacks of forms and files as sun spilled her light over the magnificent wings of the Royal Academy. The massive building was centuries old, being the epi-centrum of magical learning for many neighboring kingdoms and duchies. They accepted only those truly gifted, several of her alumni being among the greatest and most respected magi of the known world. Her students numbered some 2000. The majority had gained entry through both means and ability, receiving patronage from the nobility in return for sworn service upon graduation. A smaller number were granted stipendiums based on their talents, and a smaller number still were granted entry by personal selection of the professors. Alice Pihl was one of these students.


    She was a foreigner, having grown up half a continent away, which along with her magical expertise and excellence caused rifts with her fellow students. Her chestnut hair and fair skin drew mocking comments from her peers, and her thin, strong body drew further jeers from the boys, calling her a stick for her lack of shapes. Duels had been a daily occurrence in her earlier basic magical education, though to call them duels were a bit misleading. Street brawls was a far more fitting term. Several fellow students would assault her on the streets, using whatever magical abilities they could. It was very rare that she lost, with her opponents usually walking away with severe (yet not untreatable) burns. Wielding fire had always come naturally to her and she used it to blast her attackers away with overwhelming force. Never to kill them however, she held back just enough for it to really hurt but not more. One of these brawls, this time against a bruiser called Daggio and his compatriots, caught the eye of a man named Bartolomeo Vespi when he chanced upon it in the streets. ¡°Keep your guard up, girl! Not that way, watch your left! BAH you don¡¯t know what you are doing!¡±, he had yelled before stopping the fight by freezing all of the participants in an instant. Casually he walked over to Alice, her piercing pale blue eyes aflame with rage. ¡°You waste yourself on these nobodies, girl. Your rough style could take you to greatness if someone only helped you hone it into something¡­dangerous. As it stands, you would last but a moment against real opponents. A pup, snapping it¡¯s jaws at a wolf.¡± Embers and smoke burst out of Alice¡¯s nostrils. He chuckled. ¡°Very well, girl. I¡¯ll make you an offer. Appear at this address tomorrow after midday sun and I shall show you what you could be.¡± A little scrap of paper appeared in her frozen hand. He turned towards the opponents, 4 frozen boys, all staring at the magi with panic in their eyes. ¡°Your mothers miss you, turn and go to your homes¡±. Vespi flicked his wrist and the four boys¡¯ expressions became blank. They thawed and turned around, wildly running in different directions. He turned towards Alice again.


    ¡°My name is Bartolomeo Vespi. Prove yourself tomorrow, and I shall ask you for your name.¡±


    Vespi gave Alice a wink and an amused snort before leaving. A few minutes after he had left, Alice thawed and fell to the ground. She took a deep breath¡­but then slammed her fist in the ground with embers flying. After taking a few deep breaths she rose and gathered her thoughts. It was clear that the man was highly skilled. His clothing had been of fine quality and his speech was finer, as if accustomed to higher parts of society. He had influence, most certainly. Hmm¡­to not seize on this opportunity would be a waste. Perhaps her skill would finally be recognized and developed as it deserved to be. She continued these self-absorbed thoughts as she ventured home. She had taken up housing at a convent in the outskirts of town, her board provided in exchange for chores and a dedication towards her studies.


    The next day, just past midday sun, Alice found herself outside of a large mansion in the middle of the city. There was a large, silver bell beside the door. She rang it, and a serene sound spread into the street like a wave of comfort. She scoffed but admitted to herself that deep down the sound did make her feel at ease. She looked to the west; the Academy was clearly visible. Heard as well, apparently there was some form of outdoors practice going on as rather loud explosions could be heard from its general direction. She also saw colourful explosions splatter against the large bubble-like shield that enveloped the building. Alice lost herself in a dreamlike state of longing, the academy had been her dream ever since she first heard of it. A place where she could finally develop herself and show what she was made of. You see, she had a very simple goal. She wanted to be the greatest magi that ever lived. Silly and rather vain, for sure, but it drove her on. It was the source of her fire inside. The mere thought of how much power she could attain from her studies there... She shivered with excitement.


    Just as she was losing herself completely to dreams and longing, the door sprang open. A short, bald man was behind it, looking questioning at her. His clothes gave the impression of a steward or other trusted servant.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Ahh, yes. I was summoned here yesterday by¡­ehm¡­well, a man. A magician to be specific¡­¡±, she nervously fumbled forth.


    ¡°I see¡­ if you would please follow me.¡± The steward disappeared into the house. Alice followed, with the door shutting behind her. They were in a long hallway with reddish walls. A multitude of awards, diplomas and paintings covered the walls. One in particular caught her eye, about halfway down the hallway. It was a crest depicting a lynx with a trident within its mouth. It was beautiful, she thought. The words Mont et Maris were written underneath.


    ¡°The master¡¯s family crest.¡± She jumped a bit, startled by the Steward¡¯s sudden words. ¡°The words mean ¡®Mountain or Sea¡¯, a motto symbolizing his family¡¯s history, from mountaineers to seafolk. Master has been meaning to update it, as the family have been magicians for over 150 years but officiating the change proves to be quite a hassle. Now, if you please.¡± The steward gestured once more to follow him.


    They went further into the lavish mansion. The furnishing was exquisite. Down a set of stairs, they came into a small area with a fighting ring filled with sand dug into the floor. 4 young magicians were warming up in it. Vespi was sat on a small stool overlooking the ring. He rose to greet Alice as soon as he saw her.


    ¡°Welcome to my abode. I trust it was not too difficult to find.¡± He gestured towards the fighters in the pit. ¡°As you can see, I have gathered 4 of my best students: Arkatarnox.¡± A very tall man with steel gloves nodded his head at Alice. ¡°Giulia¡± a blond woman of athletic build with leather armouring gave Alice a sour look. ¡°Petrun.¡± A red-haired woman with a wooden cane gave her a smile. ¡°And lastly Hannus, my champion.¡± A very athletic man of medium height and black hair nodded towards her. He had no weapon or armour on him.


    ¡°They all have one thing in common: they all study at the Academy because of my patronage. In exchange, I ask only for them to fight for me in tournaments of magical duels, be they against other colleges or the teams of my dear colleagues. I think you see why I¡¯ve brought you here now.¡± Vespi smiled slyly. ¡°If you prove yourself against one of my students, I will offer you that same deal. I will let you choose whom to face, any one of them should prove adequate testament of your abilities but¡­perhaps a demonstration first?¡± Vespi clapped his hands. The four students gathered in formation, facing Alice. ¡°Arkatarnox!¡±, Vespi yelled.


    The tall man stepped forward, braced himself and slammed his steel gauntlets together. A mighty quake followed, shaking the building. The Steward, who had remained silent in a corner of the room, let out a concerned yell and run upstairs when the sounds glass shattering against the floor reached him. Arakatarnox stepped back. Alice gulped.


    ¡°Giulia, step forward.¡±


    The athletic woman stepped forward, and lightning formed in her hands. She jumped into the air and started flying around the room at incredible speed. Alice could barely follow the woman as she darted past. She landed back at the place she had started.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Petrun, you¡¯re next¡±


    The red haired woman stepped forward. Her staff grew and enveloped her in a protective armour of hardwood with several arms protruding from the back and shoulders. The arms formed into various weapons and tools before crawling back into the cane in her hand.


    ¡°Hannus!¡±


    The champion stepped forward and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he explosively flexed his entire body. His flesh grew darker, appearing like blackened steel. He fell forward with a heavy thud that shook the room. He stood up, his entire body made of metal.


    Vespi looked at Alice ¡°well, whom do you choose as your opponent?¡±


    Alice pondered for a moment, analysing the 4 contestants carefully.


    ¡°I would choose Petrun¡±


    Vespi looked at her amused. ¡°And why is that¡±


    ¡°She has what appears to be the weakest ability here¡­or so I thought.¡±


    Vespi chuckled. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Her ability does not drain her as much, at least seeing how she did not break a sweat when compared to the others. Arkatarnox¡¯s arms has been mildly shaking ever since he used his ability and I can hear him grunt softly from the exertion still. Giulia is clearly winded from using her ability. And Hannus does appear to be untouchable, but the steel makes him slower as well and drains him. Petrun keeps her strength up while being flexible and focused on beating opponents with stamina, drawing the battle out as long as possible to gain an upper hand. The worst counter for my own style¡­but the only way for me to improve is to counter my weaknesses. So my choice is still Petrun.¡±


    Vespi burst into laughter. ¡°Well stated. Not entirely correct, but a good analysis, nonetheless. She is indeed focused on prolonged fights. But as any of these four will tell you, focusing on a single aspect of combat is folly.¡±


    The four students fired up once more. Arkatarnox¡¯s gloves enveloped his body much like Petruns staff had, Giulia¡¯s body transformed into a vapour-like state, Petrun slammed her staff into the sand which caused a quake. But Hannus still remained in his metal state. Electricity ran up and down his body as he took a pose like preparing for a sprint¡­and took off. He was even faster than Giulia had been before, darting around the room wildly before landing back where he started with a smash that shook the room. Alice eyes where like empty plates, staring in disbelief. Her mouth was agape. Her cheeks grew red with shame. She had thought her answer well developed. Stupid assumptions, she should have known there was something else going on. Tears formed in her eyes.


    ¡°So you see what you lack now, don¡¯t you? Your brawls and your anger may have developed your fiery nature, but what will you do if faced with an opponent equipped with far more tools than you? Ready to counter your limited abilities? No, you are presumptive and foolish.¡± Vespi paused and eased his tone. ¡°You show promise, and with work you can become a top contender. Obviously, I would not have you fight any of my students in your current state¡­it would be a bloodbath.¡±


    He paused and looked into her eyes, weighing his next words. ¡±I¡¯ll grant you the scholarship. However if you do not dedicate yourself to this wholeheartedly and make progress I will rescind my offer again. I will send my steward to fetch you in 3 days time. Dismissed¡±


    That had been more than a year ago. Alice had entered the academy and excelled in all regards. The three main fields of magical study were Conjuration, the art of creating something from magic, Manipulation, the art of changing something already in this world with magic, and then the magics related to the soul, called Animatia, Wesenlere or other terms depending on where in the world one was. Animatia was usually teached sparingly, as it was dangerous for both receiver and user. Some smaller, more obscure colleges taught it almost solely, but they were highly selective in their recruitment. In theory there was some crossover between Animatia and the other two, but in application the magics used were wildly different. It is a seemingly easy thing to turn an apple blue, but to make a person turn against their friend or loyal friend was a far more nuanced and complex process. Each field was further divided into different subjects. Alice performance in all subjects was well above average, but there were two fields she proved herself extraordinarily in: Elemental conjuration and projection¡­and their limited venture into the Animatia subject of necromancy. During their lecture they had each been given a deceased rat and tasked with making it move. Not only had her rat moved, it had sprung to life and, apart from the decay and smell, appeared as if it had never died in behaviour. The lecturer, Magister Catanel, had incinerated the rat on the spot and dismissed the class with a worried look.


    This had not affected her as much as perhaps it should. No, the thing that affected her the most was a lesson in General Magical Theory that had been held in the first month. It had been taught by Magister Margareta Vespi, whom she learned later was the divorced spouse of Magister Bartolomeo. The lesson concerned the foundation of magics, where the abilities came from and what fuelled them. ¡°Inside each and every individual, there is a natural born amount of magical capacity. Many liken it to a muscle, but we at this college find that to be a misleading representation. A muscle can be built and improved. You magical ¡°pool¡± as it is called, cannot be expanded. What happens is that your body becomes more in tune with your pool, allowing you greater and more flexible access to its reserves of energy. Pools are refilled by resting and eating well, usually a night¡¯s sleep will be enough. However sometimes in the case of greater pools, more rest is needed to fully recover. This is also why magicians in warfare always work in duos or trios depending on role and abilities, as greater tasks require larger amounts of energy.¡±


    This simple, basic lesson had disturbed her more than anything else. It was a permanent obstacle in the way of her desires for greatness. She had brought this concern to Vespi once. ¡°You underestimate what you can do with training. My wif-¡­Margareta has a tendency towards understating that part. You have heard of the mage Vordegard? His pool is said to be rather small, but his aptitude and finesse with its usage made it possible for him to do incredible things. Do not worry, Alice. It¡¯s all training and work.¡±


    And so she applied herself. Her progress was even greater than before, as she trained both in duels and privately. Her social life was far above what it had been, but her relationships with the people around her could at most be described as a professional respect. She had only one real friend, Iocasta. They shared housing in the southern wing of the academy. Iocasta came from the south of Saragesia, fertile land with orchards and a great many villas. Her family was moderately affluent and had paid for her entrance into the academy. The two girls had found common ground in being generally uninterested in the people around them.


    The same morning as the two rogues were detected in the Lockbox, Alice was preparing for her attendance of a royal exhibition at the Academy. She was up even before the sun had risen. It had taken her about 2 months to get into the habit of rising before the school alarm sounded. About a century back, the school¡¯s leadership had decided to introduce a drastic mechanic to the beds of students. They would become ice cold at exactly the seventh hour from midnight. When they said ice cold, they meant literally freezing. It was a brutal but effective method of ensuring that students did not sleep in. More or less every student learned to wake up and rise slightly before the seventh hour.


    She rose just moments before the alarm set in and left her bedroom. Her bedroom went straight into a small kitchen combined with office-space. Iocasta met her in the kitchen.


    ¡°Morning¡± she yawned.


    ¡°Good morning. Excited?¡±, Alice asked as she reached for a boiled egg and charred some toast with her hand.


    ¡°For the exhibition?¡± She sighed deeply. ¡°What¡¯s there to be excited about really, I mean everybody knows its just like¡­like a fake competition. So there¡¯s not really any actual struggle involved. It¡¯s like trying to grill something on one of those¡­what are they called¡­you know those fires that people think are really clever.¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­you mean those that Terrance had? Coldflame?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you cant cook anything on them so what¡¯s the point? Also, why is anyone impressed by it, you just infuse some kind of suppressant for the heat and like supercharge it. People are so easy sometimes. Gah, stupid!¡± Iocasta had lit her toast on fire while talking, the ¡®stupid¡¯ most likely meant for herself. Iocasta was a bit of a cynic, but Alice found her little rants and complaints amusing.


    Alice sliced the egg with a few quick flicks of her wrist. She was proud of her wind-slicing. ¡°Well yeah, but I bet it¡¯s still going to be rather interesting. The King is coming, after all. You¡¯d have to assume they would do something extra for that reason.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡­he probably wants to inspect the prospecting mages for combat. I overheard some guys from the east wing discussing that there have been skirmishes to the south with Silesia.¡± Iocastas face turned a gloomy colour as she finished the sentence. Alice knew that she feared for her family¡¯s holdings, quite close to the border with Silesia. They continued eating in silence. Alice hated these situations, she never knew what to say or what to do. As soon as she felt bad for herself she immediately chastised herself as well. Your friend is fearing for her future and safety, and you¡¯re feeling sorry for yourself. Grow up. ¡°Hey, they¡¯ll be safe. Why don¡¯t you write to them after the exhibition?¡± Alice tried to be chipper without seeming flippant. Iocasta simply nodded. Alice returned to her toast and looked out through the window. Looks like rain. I wonder if Sister is also seeing rain now. She finished her toast. The exhibition would be starting soon.