107 – Mysterious Mage

These past two weeks had been relentless.

The Peace Day Festival alone would be one of the busiest times of the year for the city guard, let alone the Captain of that guard. And this year’s had been the centennial celebration, lasting an entire week rather than the usual night-bleeding-into-morning. Throw in a mysterious demon mage, captured Morningstar members, and a dimensional anomaly that had brought grand magi from the Thaumaturgical Institute scurrying across the continent, and Soren had been reasonably hounded. The most recent disruption, introduced two days ago, seemed practically inconsequential by comparison. Which told him that the bar hadn’t been set low so much as buried a foot underground.

But things had settled down. The Peace Day Festival had concluded. The near-apocalypse had been averted and Prismarche had received reassurances—if vague ones—from Meridian that they need not worry about a second such event… though also to be ready for emergency scrying. Contradictory, in his opinion, but he understood. Best to be on high alert.

The Grand Magi in Prismarche were studying the dimensional breach quietly, not causing problems, and even the strange new adventurer was only drawing attention and spawning rumors rather than creating chaos in the city.

All in all, the status quo had returned.

Maybe that should have been his warning. Clearly, he wasn’t allowed peace in his life anymore. Those days were long past.

“The mage from two weeks ago is looking for you, Captain.”

Soren wasn’t sure there was a sentence in the world that could have dropped his stomach further into his boots. He stared at his subordinate, suppressing the dismay he felt. A response didn’t come for long enough that the other man started to shift uncomfortably in place.

“The mage from two weeks ago,” Soren finally repeated. “By that, you mean…?”

“The demon. Short woman in black robes, sir. Responsible for the Morningstar captures.”

“Ah.”

“She wants to speak with you.”

“I gathered that, Sergeant.”

After a couple of deep breaths, Soren mustered up the steady assuredness he carried around at all times, which had flagged more than he’d have preferred at his subordinate’s announcement. A Captain of the City Guard, or indeed any superior officer, should always project confidence. Even in circumstances as dire as these.

“Shouldn’t keep her waiting, then. She’s at the front?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“No need to accompany me. Thank you, Sergeant.”

As he walked, his thoughts churned. The ‘mysterious mage’ from two weeks ago had made him uneasy even back then, before he’d come to a stunning realization. He’d already deduced that she was Titled, of course, but Soren had dealt with Titled before. Any Guard Captain of a large city would have.

Yet this wasn’t simply ‘a mysterious, wandering Titled.’ Soren hadn’t made the connection immediately—not even when news of Meridian’s dimensional breach had reached Prismarche, nor when Prismarche’s own sky had split open and monsters from beyond the first horizon had slithered into their world… only to be rebuffed by a black dot of a mage hovering a thousand feet in the air.

He’d realized it the next night, shooting up in bed like a lightning bolt had struck him. It almost seemed obvious in retrospect. He doubted he was the only one to figure out the woman’s identity. Or suspect, since he had no proof.

…especially with the alternate name she had given. Not even an ‘alternate’ name. A nickname. ‘Vivi.’ Disorienting in how casual it was. Ridiculous as he knew the opinion was, heroes of history really shouldn’t have nicknames. There was something fundamentally wrong with it.

So. Indeed, he wasn’t striding out to go meet with ‘a mysterious mage.’ He was about to speak with the Sorceress herself. And gods forgive him for saying it, but so far, that had yet to bode well for the city he was struggling to keep from sinking into chaos.

When he arrived, he was met with the image of a woman he remembered well, despite their few meetings. He couldn’t help but be caught off guard once again. This was the one piece of evidence that made him doubt his theory: her appearance. Everyone knew that the Sorceress, while shorter than the other four Heroes, had still been a striking, elegant demon, with a… well, a figure not quite so petite, to be blunt.

Not a woman so small she would vanish the moment she stepped into a crowd.

Then again, the Sorceress had been famously reclusive, and deeper research at the library had given him conflicting information on the topic. So it wasn’t necessarily ‘counter-evidence,’ just a strange discrepancy.

In the end, it hardly mattered.

The red-haired cat beastkin surprised him too, for a different reason. Saffra, he believed he remembered. One of their up-and-coming adventurers. He’d forgotten that the woman had brought the girl along when she’d left Prismarche.

Did that mean the Sorceress had taken an apprentice? Or was the girl simply a ward? He approved in either case, but especially the former. Though the girl hadn’t acted as wisely as she could have, by pursuing the two Morningstar members she had displayed a level of valor he rarely saw, even in grown men who were supposedly honor-bound to act in such a way. Character would obviously matter more to the Sorceress than talent—because really, would a mage ever exist to draw her attention in that regard?

“Lady Adventurer,” he greeted warmly as he walked up. He also offered a smile for the girl. She gave a halfhearted one in return, obviously just being polite. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, suspicious of him. Would take more than two weeks away for that to change, apparently. “I’m glad to see you looking well. We received reports of the Convoy incident.” Even before he’d deduced her identity, he’d known she was responsible for salvaging that disaster. “What brings you back to Prismarche?”

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“Business,” the woman replied vaguely, as cool and detached as always. Those red eyes had unnerved him from the start, but only in that moment did he realize why. Realize what they were: the eyes of a mage who had peered into unknowable depths, and now found all else dreadfully monotonous by comparison. He fought off a shiver. “Can we speak privately?” she asked.

“Of course.”

As he led them to his office, he racked his brain. ‘Here for business.’ That could mean a number of things, seeing how this was the woman who had saved Prismarche from extermination by Cataclysm-rank monsters. Something he wanted to thank her for, but he didn’t know whether he should—because it would indicate that he’d deduced her identity, and if she was keeping it hidden, there was a reason. Moreover, what if he was wrong?

‘Business’ might also mean something smaller scale. Maybe she’d come here because of Prismarche’s most recent strange adventurer?

Best not to make any assumptions. He would hear what she had to say first.

Once arrived, and after he shut the door behind their party of three, Soren pulled up a second seat and gestured for the woman and her apprentice to sit. They did so. He settled into his tall-backed, wooden chair and asked, “How can the city guard be of service, Lady Adventurer?”

“Have you figured it out?”

The question put him off balance. “Have I figured it out?”

“I’m assuming you did. I didn’t have [Invisibility] on myself. I was high up, and I dispelled any magic coming at me, but a spyglass could still have given you an idea.”

“Ah.” Tone growing cautious, he replied, “I believe I know what you’re speaking of, yes.”