I felt a creeping sense of terror when I realized that the years lined up. Malcolm had seen fewer than thirty summers, and that horrible tragedy happened…how many years had it been? I counted on the joints of my fingers; ten and six was it? Malcolm would have been a child, a little boy, at the time.
Then there is what he said about his parents, almost flippantly - mere consumption would have been curable but if they were, in sooth, infected with - I felt bile roiling in my stomach at the possibility. If he was somehow touched by that terrible tragedy, then…Elianora forfend! Could it be that his anguish is tied somehow to the selfsame event that took the lives of so many, including one of Sylfie's-
I was brought out of my trance, for suddenly Sir Victor whispered to me.
"Does teleportation mean what I think it does? Instant travel, I mean."
I nodded - oh, that seemed to excite him! Pity, it's a somewhat powerful sort of magic - the shortest and weakest variation being adept grade. I'll make sure he gets to try it, somehow! Perhaps Lady Nenewyn can give him a jump some time? As far as I know she is the only spellcaster in father's employ who can teleport and I can't speak for any of the mages of the Silver Tower.
Speaking of Nenewyn, she lost someone back then, too, didn't she? Yes. She and Sylfie were both there when it happened and…oh no…is that why Malcolm nearly recoiled when I cast Comprehension? Did the thought of receiving a touch-range spell remind him of - gah! I must needs apologize to him as soon as possible!
"Hanzo's dossier didn't mention your schooling," said Sir Victor, "but if you were instantly transmittin' there I guess his agents wouldn't have had any way of knowing that you'd been studying abroad."
Malcolm nodded, "hmm. I don't know who this Hanzo fellow is, but, yes, I highly doubt even her majesty Queen Arabelle would have known of my attendance if I'd not told her myself. As far as anyone else at court knew I was just an orphaned noble who had a brief stint as an adventurer, wrote a play, then impressed the queen so much he got a job as a jester and minister of culture both."
His tone changed drastically, back to his theatrical and bombastic ways, "but! I've had my fill of ghosts for the day so enough reminiscing about a time long since past and no more tangents if it can be helped - sure I may have said that last bit before but, oh who am I kidding, I'm sure the three of us will veer off into further tangents down the road."
"Well good, cuz if we didn't keep going off on tangents, that'd be a sine that we'd lost our way," said Sir Victor.
What did he mean by that? Ah, Malcolm was just as lost as me and he wore a disappointed, disinterested expression.
"Sorry old boy," he said, "that particular pun didn't translate. Moving on! I can use beginner ranked lightning magic, as well as novice fire magic." As he spoke he weaved magical flame and lightning between his fingers. "I mostly use them for tricks and showmanship, but I could use them to strike at enemies in a pinch - but even so, I've actually got a far more mana-efficient attack method: observe!"
Malcolm drew from the top of the deck of playing cards which we'd picked up a week or so back. The card radiated with a minute amount of magic right before he flicked it at alarming speed! It struck a wooden beam and bit deep into it. Then he threw another card, oriented vertically, which bisected the first card, and then a third which somehow managed to slice the second card in half the other way - the way a legendary archer might split an arrow for a double bullseye. It was then that I realized that the wall now had a cross-shaped gouge in it.
I yelped. "Gah! Someone is gonna need to repair that, you know, and they're sure to charge us a hefty fee!"
"Repairs, indeed," said Malcolm, "but tell me, your highness, aren't you a mage and isn't nature one of your specialties?"
Silence fell. Why did I continue to forget that at moments like this? I sighed and proceeded to pour mana into the wall, repairing the wood. Sir Victor wasn't laughing, thankfully, perhaps he sensed I was a little annoyed and was being considerate. Ugh, ah, I think I know what presently ails me - I haven't had coffee in weeks.
I'd grown quite fond of the beverage and craved it more than ever. Why, oh why, did we go through Sir Victor's supply so quickly? Three pounds between two people isn't nearly enough. He'd even taught me how to use that "French Press" device of his and it was so much fun to use! Well there was hope, I had an idea I wanted to run by Meli. Gah! I'd gotten distracted and before I knew it, Sir Victor had asked a bunch of questions, and Mal had continued speaking.
"Yes, old boy, I think that would be a splendid idea!" Wait, what did I miss? "So in addition to what the adventurer's guild refers to as Perfect Throwing, I can use a bow after a fashion and I am also quite deft with light blades as you may have witnessed."
It was true, I had never seen a person juggle eight knives at once - it was quite a feat. Then he lit them on fire, which Big Brother could do too, but he'd never juggled his swords. It wasn't even as though Big Brother needed the fire to defeat enemies, he just loved the way it looked.
"I shan't demonstrate my acrobatics either as we do have neighbors downstairs, but I should mention them at the very least I think. I've dodged at least one expert grade fireball, so my ability to tumble and tuck and contort is fairly solid. Ah one last thing before we return to planning our little vacation to a dangerous forest swarming with monstrous spiders - I can use a little bit of force magic, but only at the novice grade at the moment."
My ears perked up, and I said "oh? Do you think you could um…" I was pressing my index fingers together.
Malcolm bowed, "I'd be happy to teach it to you, such as I can, by demonstrations and drills."
Sir Victor seemed lost, "Force magic? What, like moving things around and such?"
Malcolm shook his head, "that'd be kinetic magic. Force magic involves pure force energy. Observe," he thrust out his hand, a small translucent square appeared, "that's force magic," he said, "it is the foundational discipline of protection, or barrier magic, regional variations again," he leaned casually, putting his weight on the force manifestation.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"So more like a force field, then. That could be helpful."
"Oh, this here is just a utility-grade parlor trick, something that I use to offer myself a convenient surface to write upon or just to lean against. It has no defensive or offensive value whatsoever. But, were I to teach it to her highness, she may be able to use such a cantrip as a foundation to aid her in learning novice grade protection spells - there is in particular one that behaves as though it were armor but wouldn't impede her in the slightest. Naturally it would be much easier on her if she had access to someone's magical notation, such as a spellbook, but I can certainly help."
"Y-yes," I said, "that's precisely it. I'd meant to learn some protection magic from Lady Nenewyn but I hadn't had the time with my duties as emissary and all. I was thinking that I might want to have an extra safety net in case um-"
Oh gods I didn't just think about Sir Victor failing, did I? I didn't want to offend him by insinuating that he might - then I breathed a sigh of relief, as I saw him nod approvingly.
"That'd be good; I've taken hits for her before but even monkeys fall out of trees as my friend used to say, and something could get past my strike zone," he smiled, "but we can talk about idiomatic expressions later. The point is: it never hurts to have extra protection."
As usual he was on the same page as I. Why was I worried? Oh, I am given to understand that being on the same page means the same thing in Eng-lish as it does in Elvish, but in Common they say 'pon the selfsame volume instead. Well they're close enough anyhow.
Sir Victor paused, thoughtfully, and said "one of these days I'd like to see a list of common spells of multiple disciplines, and figure out what we need to add to our arsenal - we've got healing covered pretty well, I can fight on the front-lines somewhat, and we've also got a combat engineer here too and it ain't Smokey Joe."
Ah, he must be thinking of Sir Martinez, the childhood friend who joined the army with him. They'd grown up together having been next door neighbors. Sir Victor referred to him by that nickname many times - 'twas customary in his old army for friends in the same unit to come up with funny names for one another. Graham Cracker was another one I'd heard and that had been Sir Smith's - I had yet to learn the nicknames of the other three.
"Beg pardon, old boy," said Malcolm, "combat engineer?"
The two of them talked for a while about Sir Victor's time of service and what a combat engineer could do and- huh? Who are the Lopez twins and why did he change the subject? The source of Sir Martinez's moniker of Smokey Joe came up, of course Sir Victor had told me already.
it made my mouth water by simply imagining it. Something I desired, something I had never tasted yet craved each instance it crossed my mind: brisket. That slow-smoked meat he had raved about. His friend was especially good at preparing the dish and his family even made a living selling it squeezed betwixt slices of freshly-baked bread daubed with a tangy sauce.
Hungry again, I snatched up some cheese from the table and down it went in a very un-princess-like manner.
Suddenly, through the door, which had been left open, Meli appeared and burst out "Mister K!"
Both Sir Victor and Malcolm quickly turned to face the door and said "yes?"
I laughed out loud. Whether that was intentional or not, I had to admit it put a smile on my face. We had invited Meli, of course, that was the reason the door had been left open in the first place, and I was relieved. It was nice to have another woman here even if she were a bit odd, and then there's the scandalous things she tended to say so casually. Pray do not permit me to begin ranting about the innuendos she makes about Sir Victor and I! No, Meli, I'm not spitting on any of his things!
Our relationship is a - well I suppose we're close but not like that! We've been through dangerous situations together, we have the kind of bond that forms between adventurers. I think that Meli just enjoys seeing me flustered - she has the exact same reaction to my embarrassment that big brother does. Am I really that cute when needled, as big brother claims?
"Ah, well if it isn't that spirited young lady from the ball," said Malcolm, bowing.
Ah, she's blushing, being called young by a man just over half her own age must feel nice; the guildmaster does the same to me, but he goes too far down and treats me like a little girl. That's fine, I love Uncle Chuck. Though, didn't beastfolk have longer lifespans than humans on average? Shorter than dwarves for sure but; I could not recall at the time.
So at first I was nervous about Malcolm and Meli's reunion but then I remembered that Meli had not been present for any of the legal proceedings following the ball; actually, she sort of vanished after dancing with the duke. Oh. I suppose I should ask if anything happened? I did know one thing: she knew who I was now, my full name and title. She was surprised of course but never changed the way she interacted with me, which was another thing I'd been worried about. Correction: there was one change. Now that she'd learned my proper name, she'd taken to shortening it to 'Liana. Praise Elianora she didn't go for "Illy".
"Oh, why thank ye kind sir, yer a mite cute yerself! Only, I don't reckon we've ever met."
"Meli," I said, she finally saw me and waved vigorously, "this is the gentleman we're taking out to buy clothes and equipment."
Realization dawned on her and she immediately took Mal's hand, shaking vigorously, "darn nice ta meet cha, sug! Meli Karga!"
With the look of a man put-upon, Malcolm said, "charmed," he coughed, "Malcolm Kavian, adventurer by trade, combat engin- I mean, trickster, by way of guild classification."
Meli was still smiling broadly, and was looking Malcolm up and down. "Oh my, sugar, 'Liana wasn't kiddin' when she said y'all was in a bad way. Don't worry, sug, we'll get cha fixed up in two shakes. A nice gamby, some boots, and um, how about a haircut?" Malcolm declined a haircut with a taciturn wave, "well if you're happy with your hair sugar, then I'm happy too! But yer clothes ain't even fit to wipe a bordello kitchen floor with, kno' whatta mean?"
Malcolm seemed to enjoy that, and he smiled, "I think that I do, milady."
"Oh I ain't no high falutin lady, I'm just a country bun-kin with a lil ol talent fer magickin'."
So we were off - with a list of items that Sir Victor had written down, the three of us did hie ourselves to the market district, and Sir Victor to the Adventurer's Guild. I smiled a little because I noticed something. I could sense the light of joy inside the roiling bleakness of Malcolm's heart where there had once been naught.
It was struggling to break through, like a little candle trying to grow inside a storm of shadows, but it was there. Malcolm had compared his sorrow to a great serpent squeezing his heart, and I could sense that there was something resisting the coils - the emotions were still intense enough for me to feel, true, but there was deep inside trying to break free of them.
Yes, I thought. Perhaps there is hope for him. But at some juncture I must needs enquire with him about something. That horrible tragedy which befell the Grand University, for which he may want, very well need, answers about. That terrible, awful event that snuffed out so many lives, caused so much suffering, and endangered my sister and Lady Nenewyn both. That crisis, which was so great that only by one of Elinaora's miracles did anyone come out of it alive and even then after so many had died agonizing, despairing deaths.
The Spellscourge.
Ascension Of The Throne[LitRPG/GunSlinger]
Edric Veyra's new reality. He only wants to survive, but trouble knocks like it's DoorDash. He soon realizes he is the fallen heir of House Veyra—once the pillars of the nation, now nothing more than a story.
System. Before he can mourn his luck, he is bombarded by cryptic memories and a weapon magically appears from thin air: a flintlock gun engraved with runes that shoots magic bullets.
"Why did House Veyra fall?"
WHAT TO EXPECT:
- ?? Weak to Strong:
- ?? 'Lite' LitRPG System w/ Minimal Stats
- ?? Emphasis on Party Dynamics (No Harem)
- ?? 1500+ words/chapter & Smooth pacing