Chapter 55 – Restless Knights

Mirian figured the hidden grove would be perfect for testing out the wand. She re-checked the wand’s core, then cemented the handle back to the shaft and headed out. The nice thing about the light snow on the ground was that it was easy to see that no one had been here except herself. Still, she looked around to make sure she wasn’t being watched, then held the wand so it was pointed at the ground. Visualizing the glyph pattern, she channeled—

—and found herself flat on her ass in the snow.

Grunting, she got back up to her feet and dusted the snow and dirt off her cloak. Alright, so the wand needs to be aligned horizontally for the force to be projected down, she noted, and tried again.

This time, she floated, just an inch or two off the ground. It made her stomach flutter. It felt like she should be falling as she teetered back and forth in the air. The next feeling to hit her was elation. It was a wand of levitation! She was flying!

Mirian dropped to the ground, having flown an inch above the ground for all of about twenty seconds.

She tried again, this time adjusting the direction of the wand as she floated. Sure enough, the direction of the projected force could let her move about, though as she quickly found out (as she threw herself back down into the snow) there was a great deal of precision needed both in channeling the spell and directing it with the wand. Also, the spell was mana-hungry as anything. She’d gone through a big chunk of her auric mana already.

Professor Jei was right, both her spell intensity and efficiency were abysmal. Right now, the wand was practically useless in her hands, even if it was cool as anything. Reluctantly, she hid it back in her satchel and started on her exercises.

Midway through the ninth exercise, she stopped. This has me practicing all the classic energy types. But is there an exercise for manipulating gravity, too? She doubted Jei knew one. Was it even possible to use raw spellcasting to do that? There were only a few things one could do with raw mana; the shaper glyphs were critical for most spells. Still, it was worth looking into.

***

It was Fourthday by the time someone finally came looking for her at the grove. By then, the snow had melted again. It was a young man wearing a blue embroidered coat. One of the mayor’s secretaries, if Mirian’s memory served. “Mirian? I’d heard you’ve been coming here.”

“That’s me,” she said. So people had been keeping track of her.

“The new mayor would like to see you. Sire Ethwarn, if you haven’t heard. Will you come with me?”

Mirian shrugged. “Sure.” Her schedule was wide open, now that she didn’t have classes to attend. She could fit her practice into any part of the day.

The man took her through Torrviol without any attempt to make conversation. Mirian looked about to see if she could spot anyone keeping an eye on her, but no one stood out. She was distracted by the people who looked and whispered as she passed. She wondered what they were saying. Were they just talking about the bog lion, the dead spies, or had they heard stories about her claim to be looping through time? Maybe Valen could tell her.

The mayor’s office had been redecorated. Gone were Wolden’s pictures of half-clothed women lounging about in forests. They’d been replaced by tasteful landscape pieces showing the different mountain ranges in Baracuel. Mirian recognized the Littenord range—you could see it from the higher buildings in Torrviol on a clear day—and the Casnevar Range, which she’d seen from the train tracks plenty of times on her way to and from the Academy. She could only assume the one of colossal glaciers and hundreds of jagged peaks was of the Endelice Mountains deep in the frostlands and the barren looking ones were the Southern Range. She wondered what the Persamans called the Southern Range. Certainly not that, since it was in the northern part of their country.

Then the name ‘Nihayabranan’ popped into her head, totally unbidden. Was that what it was called? Where had that come from? It had something to do with the end of the land, or end of the empire. Wasn’t one of the words for ‘land’ the same as ‘empire’ in Persaman? And how do I know that? she wondered.

No distractions, Mirian admonished herself. She needed to have a clear head for this meeting.

“Sire Ethwarn,” she said, giving him a slight bow as she greeted him. The new mayor was a portly man with a handlebar mustache and a warm smile. He was exactly the opposite of the other knight she knew. His hair had the faintest dusting of gray, though it was mostly hidden under his cap of office. The exotic feathers on the left side of the tophat’s red felt band looked out of place, though apparently there was a deep tradition to including them.

“Ah, no need for titles. Just Ethwarn, my dear. Please, have a seat, have a seat.” He gestured to one of the red velvet chairs across from him. He leaned back in his own chair, smiling pleasantly. “Well, you look a lot less intimidating than the stories I’ve heard made you out to be. Ah, there’s our other guest.”

Mirian turned as the door opened again and a woman wearing a distinct red and gold coat walked in. She had her blond hair braided and bound up in an elaborate style, the same way she did when Mirian had first seen her. Her stern demeanor was also the same. “Magistrate Ada,” Mirian said.

“Oh, you’ve met?”

Mirian cleared her throat. “I suppose not.”

That had just made the magistrate uneasy. So they had heard something about her time loop, Mirian was sure of it. “So, dear Mirian, I’ve had my finger to the pulse of Torrviol for most of my life,” the mayor said. “And I dare say, I’d never heard of your name until just the other day. And it comes with the most fascinating story. I should tell you, I’m invested in Torrviol. It’s been my family’s home for generations, and I do mean invested, my dear. One of the reasons I was elected. Folks here know I’m not going to just pick up and leave like Mr. Wolden seems to have done. So you can understand that one of the rumors in particular has me… concerned.”

“Would that be the one where Akana Praediar sends an army and wipes out the town?”

“That would be the one!” the mayor said jovially. “It’s a bit of a tall tale, I admit—”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. You know the dead guys were Akanan spies, right? You’ve looked through the wreckage in the headquarters, you must have seen the scroll before you handed it over to Song Jei to decode, right? And you have the second spy in custody—”

The mayor cleared his throat. “My predecessor…” he started.

“He’s dead,” Ada said.

“When?” Mirian said, alarmed. “How?”

“Does it matter?” the mayor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, because I might be able to stop it—next time.”

Mayor Ethwarn looked at the magistrate. “She’s consistent, at least. He died on the 6th of Solen. Isn’t that interesting?”

The magistrate looked like she wanted to interject.

Mirian ground her teeth. That was after Captain Mandez and the mayor vanished. “Then there’s still another spy. Or someone who didn’t want him to talk. Or one of the conspirators didn’t actually run. Damn! Why can’t things ever be easy?”

“Why indeed,” the mayor said, tapping his finger against his desk. “So there’s… there’s certainly some evidence of some nefarious Akanans. Some strange happenings, not the kind we like to have in this fine town. Activities my office is committed to getting to the bottom of.” He leaned in slightly, scrunching up his brow, and said quietly, “Between the three of us, my predecessor did not keep very good records of his proceedings. Quite suspicious. However, you probably understand that none of this adds up to… well. It sounds a bit ridiculous to say. Our ally! Akana Praediar!”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Believe me, I do. So here’s how it will go down: on the 20th of Solen, there’s a massacre in the Akanan embassy in Palendurio. Don’t know why yet, I’ve been trying to solve things here first. Then something else happens. Ships stop going across the Rift Sea. Unrelated, there’s a magical surge between here and Cairnmouth on the 22nd that damages the tracks, so all news to Torrviol stops, except messenger birds. With the spies mostly out of the way, hopefully those messages stop getting intercepted, but you’ll want to send people you trust to watch the post. I don’t know when the Akanan force lands. I do know that they attack here on the night of the 28th, and the Akanans are out for blood. They massacre everyone. They’re after… I’m sure you know about the secret project the Academy is working on, right?”

“I may have heard of it. The Academy took out… substantial loans. It’s only good business sense to figure out what they needed them for. Funny thing I learned the day after I assumed office. Torrviol and the Academy proper are in separate jurisdictions. The Academy has its own charter under the provincial governor. The guard is mutually accountable to both my office and the Archmage, bless his soul. Have you talked much with Archmage Luspire?”

This was all news to Mirian, who paid about as much attention to political jurisdictions as history lessons. “Not all. I see him… well, once a year. At the yearly opening ceremonies. Hmm. What should I find out about him?”

“Ah, you see, I reached out to his office because—it’s Torrviol! We both live here, so it would be nice to get together. Collaborate, you know. I am told he is busy. With what, I suppose we can both only guess at.”

“I’ll look into it,” Mirian said. She’d start by asking Jei and Seneca, since they seemed the most forthcoming. “I think the attack on Torrviol has to do with the project. But… Akana has known about it for years at this point. There must be… I don’t know. I’ll be honest, the politics of it all are beyond me. I can tell you the attack is extremely well planned. And it hits just when the Baracuel army is offloading from the train. The only way the army gets here in time is if someone convinces them. And it won’t be me. I’m just some student.”