With the two Silver mages meditating at the centre of the siege tower, low conversations spread out through the gathered groups.

  Other than their five Silver leaders, the mages from Mystral had drifted to one edge of the tower opposite from Kaius and his friends. Almost instinctively, they gathered themselves according to their Spires — no doubt as much due to simple bonds of familiarity as it was political allegiance.

  Happy to avoid as much attention as possible, Kaius stayed away from the centre — Rieker and Ro would be far more adept at politics than he was, to say nothing of the governor himself.

  He couldn’t help but be absorbed in what he had just witnessed: an entire building arisen from the ground in seconds. Hells, he could still hear the churning crowds in the city streets below, yelling in confusion and surprise.

  Even Ianmus seemed taken aback.

  “So that was as impressive as it looked, then,” Kaius hedged a guess, keeping his voice low enough that his murmurs would only be heard by his team.

  When Ianmus turned to look, Kaius caught the mage’s eye. “How are they not insensate? I’ve never seen you muster that much mana.”

  Ianmus shrugged. “Different specialities — my magic lends itself to quick bursts, whereas something like this needs a slower, more considerate touch. Given the demands of their magic, Stonespire all but requires its initiates to invest in skills that help them deal with and recover from mana burn.”

  Kaius shook his head. “They might be specialised, but a siege tower sprouting from the ground has a certain impact that other forms of magic lack.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder — what would those mages be able to do if they reached the third tier? The fourth? Would they be able to conjure entire fortresses in seconds?

  Even if specialising in construction had neutered their combat skills and spells completely — something he heavily doubted, considering both men had reached Silver — simply being able to move that much stone would make them terrors.

  “A good thing they came when they did; the beasts could arrive any day now,” Kenva added, peering over the edge of the tower with an appreciative gleam in her eye. “Towers like these are invaluable. Less archers on the wall means more space for classers who are better suited for repelling any beasts that might scale them.”

  Before their conversation could continue, Ophelia, the leader of Mystral’s mages, cleared her throat at the centre of the tower.

  “Well. Now that our initial preparations have been made, and we find ourselves in a position of relative privacy, it is a good time for more…official introductions.”

  Kaius didn’t miss the pertinent look that the storm mage gave his group — one that lingered equally on him, Porkchop, and Ianmus.

  Hanrick glanced at the nearby earth mages, who were both unperturbed by their conversation. “Should we not wait for their work to be finished?”

  “No,” Ophelia responded with a slight shake of her head. “Their plans for the defence of the city are extensive — they’ll be at this all night, and likely through the morning as well.”

  Kaius couldn’t help but wince. He didn’t envy the mages; no doubt by the time they had finished, both of the Silvers would feel like they had ogres wailing on their heads.

  He stilled as Ophelia’s eyes snapped to his group once more, the slightest of frowns on her face.

  “I am curious, Governour — why did your missive not mention a greater meles? What possible interest could the Dens have in the fate of your city? They barely interact with the Conclaves, let alone grow invested in happenings outside of the Arboreal Sea.”

  Kaius watched as every Steel mage in Mystral’s delegation froze, their eyes widening as they stared at Porkchop in disbelief.

  That was a surprise. Considering how fast Ianmus had noticed when they’d first met, Kaius had assumed that the Spire mages would have recognised his brother immediately. He supposed that Ianmus was a half-elf, and had far more context than most.

  Hanrick groaned, looking over his shoulder briefly with pleading eyes. “A simple oversight, given the urgency of the situation.”

  “An oversight?” Ophelia responded, arching her brow.

  As Kaius straightened, ready to clear up the misunderstanding, he felt a mental nudge from his bondbrother.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Letting out a soft grumble, Porkchop rose to his feet — an action that immediately drew the attention of everyone atop the siege tower. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how large Porkchop had grown.

  Not now, when he had to crane his head to avoid the buttressed stone ceiling of the tower.

  “The Dens have no involvement, nor am I here in any official capacity. I have been living in Deadacre for over a year, operating as a delver alongside my team,” Porkchop said, looking back at Kaius and the rest of his friends.

  Kaius struggled to keep from laughing as Porkchop winked at him.

  His brother’s answer seemed to catch Ophelia and the rest of the Silver mages flat-footed. Behind her, a woman in a green robe frowned — Madrigal, Kaius assumed, the life mage that Ianmus had mentioned.

  “But…why? And how? Are the elves aware that a greater meles has left the Sea?”

  Porkchop let out a soft growl — one Kaius knew to be a warning. “You are mistaken if you assume that the elves have any say in my actions, nor that of any of my kin. As for why? Because it is a good way to grow strong, and it serves the interests of my friends and I. The only thing that matters is that I am here, and I am willing to fight.”

  While Madrigal paled slightly at Porkchop’s initial rebuke, she nodded.

  “That explains some of your old student’s growth, I suppose,” Ophelia said, glancing behind her to the mage, Cantor.

  “Some of it,” Cantor replied, his eyes flicking over Kaius and his team.

  Kaius watched the man closely. Ianmus had made it clear there was history between them, but the man didn’t seem malicious.

  “We’ve gotten off track. We’re supposed to be planning how we stop a horde of beasts from devouring this city to the bones, not gossiping like tavern regulars!” Rieker growled.

  Ophelia took the Guildmaster’s words in stride. “A fair point. Let us start with our fortification plans — integrating our mages into your battle lines should be easy enough.”

  To Kaius’s relief, the topic of conversation quickly diverted away from him and his team. The discussions were detailed: layouts of new fortifications and how troops could be arrayed to take maximum use of them.

  Much time was spent on exactly where the tallest siege tower should be placed. Its intended use was for Silvers — the mages and rangers who would benefit from additional viewing angles, and could strike equally as powerfully from far afield.

  That little revelation quelled some of his nerves for the upcoming battle — if Kenva and Ianmus were both there, they would be well defended and far from any intrusions.

  “I wonder where they’re going to put us?” Porkchop asked privately, watching the ongoing conversation with interest.

  “By the eastern gate, I imagine,” Kaius replied.

  He remembered the massive beasts that had broken through the gates to Old Yon’s compound. Now that it was confirmed that they had been controlled by a malicious intelligence, there was no doubt in his mind that the tyrant would attempt something similar with Deadacre.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  That reminded him.

  “What of the tyrant itself? How do we plan to deal with it?” he asked in a lull of the discussion.

  “Overwhelming force,” Rieker replied. “If the army is limited to low Steel like Dross suggested, then a strike force consisting of Ro, Ark, your team, and I will have little difficulty punching through it. Signal flares will be distributed amongst us, guard leadership, and the militia — we gather when it’s been spotted. However, if this monstrosity has been holding stronger forces in reserve, they will likely need to be dealt with before we can strike.”

  Kaius only hoped that the creature wouldn’t hide behind its army. The sooner they could break its compulsion over the beasts, the fewer lives would be lost. Even if the Tyrant had Golds, he’d killed more than a few of those before.

  A slight tingle of thrill shot down his spine at the thought of facing down such a creature while surrounded by a teeming horde. Charging through an army would be dangerous — but he trusted his skills. Even hampered by his prosthetic, he refused to believe that beasts half his level would prove a challenge, especially not with his team being backed by three Golds.

  Deadacre would not — could not — fall.

  ….

  Ianmus leaned on the wall of the siege tower, staring out at the dead ground that surrounded the city.

  The milling herd of hopefuls that would soon leave for Mystral had backed away from the city gates, creating space for the Silver mages of Stonespire to cast their next spell. He’d need to pass along his and Kaius’s notes before they left.

  For now, he was content to watch Madra and Isaac work.

  A visible wave of mana was flowing down through the tower at his feet. Surging underneath the city wall, it fuelled the steady growth of a demon’s bramble. Stone spikes — each taller than he was — erupted from the ground in fits and spurts.

  Jutting in many angles, the spikes were not so densely clustered that they overlapped. Each one was a lowered pike, ready to spill the blood of any beast that was foolish enough to charge at the walls.

  Dragon’s teeth. The name was certainly evocative.

  He shook his head in amazement. Truly, it was astonishing — the work that the two Silvers were able to produce. Even if it would take them hours to surround the entire city, it was a display of manipulation mastery that dwarfed his own.

  They were a perfect pair: one shifting and growing raw stone, while the other shaped it.

  It was a perfect example that he shouldn’t grow too sure of himself simply because of the strength of his new class, and the advantages that honours had brought him. Decades of experience in magecraft was a power in and of itself.

  “You know, despite their stoic countenance, I’m quite sure this is the most excited I’ve ever seen mages from Stonespire.”

  The voice came from behind him. Cantor.

  “Professor,” Ianmus replied.

  Cantor’s expression was strange — like he’d bitten into an olive, only to find it was unpitted. The man didn’t know what to make of his new strength. Certainly, he’d been unbalanced by their now-equivalent status.

  No. That was wrong — his lesser status. A professor Cantor might have been, but the Spires had always valued merit above all else.

  Ianmus had reached Silver in a year. That alone placed him in an almost unassailable position. Once word had gotten out about his honours, discovery of keyseal conjuration, and his class…

  Forsaken hells, even he didn’t know what to do with it.

  Cantor blinked, seemingly in realisation that they had both been staring at each other for uncomfortably long.

  “I have had to reevaluate my judgements, these last few days,” Cantor said after a few moments. “In your later years at the academy, it became clear that you were a hard worker — but I held bitterly to the belief that it was only the absence of any true talents that allowed you your position.”

  The hawkish man snapped his mouth shut, as if it physically hurt to continue speaking. He swallowed, and continued anyway.

  “I would be a fool to continue that belief. I am no fool.”

  It was as good of an apology as he would get; Ianmus knew that with certainty. He gave Cantor a nod, and drew four notebooks from his ring.

  “I would leave these with you. There are two copies of each book. Ideally, one set would return to Mystral with the most senior Mist mage — but Ophelia would also work, considering her abilities of flight. They must survive this battle — for the sake of all who love magic.”

  Cantor turned them over in his hands, looking at them with surprise. “What are they?”

  “New branches of magic discovered by myself and my team leader, Kaius. Keyseal conjuration and glyphbinding respectively. They’re different from sorcery or free casting — though in my opening notes I detail why I think the latter is not a wholly independent branch like we thought.”

  Cantor gaped at him for a second, before he all but tore off the cover of the first notebook. For a few minutes his eyes roved across each page with the intensity of one cursed by the moon, tearing through the opening statements.

  “This…impossible!” Cantor looked up, eyes wide with maniacal fascination. “You have proof?”

  Ianmus grinned. “Other than the glyphs openly tattooed on my friend’s face? Yes.”

  Mana welled up from his marrow as he urged the resource towards his first keyseal — The First Circle of Stability. Far less complex than his Keyseal of the Rising Dawn, it would be far easier for Cantor to pick apart the unique aspects of the magic.

  His old professor stared with rapt attention — as did every other Spire mage, as they noticed the welling mana.

  “Your mana!” Cantor suddenly gasped, though he looked equally concerned and confused. “You should halt your cast before your injury worsens!”

  An understandable mistake — any other person with conduits so ruptured would be spending their final moments writhing in agony.

  “There is no danger — not anymore.” Ianmus nodded to his notes, still in Cantor’s hand. “Freecasting keyseals is…dangerous, a significant reason the art will need careful research. They utilise sacred geometry, and require anchoring to the soul for stability. My first success was in the worst of circumstances — only succeeding in igniting my Corporus Aspect saved me.”

  “Corporus…truly?” Cantor whispered, stricken once more.

  “What can I say? I’ve had an eventful year.”

  The muted silence of every mage in eyeshot was one of the sweetest gifts he could ask for. The fact that his team was biting back laughs at his braggadocio only made it better.

  With enough mana gathered, his keyseal snapped into existence — a tightly packed disk of overlapping geometric patterns that hovered over his staff.

  At once, every mage — from Silver to dozens of Steels — approached.

  “How does it work? And how did you discover it?” one of them muttered, their identity lost in the crowd.

  “Keyseals require intent to shape, unlike glyphbinding, but less than traditional magecraft. While less flexible, geometry and a link to the soul allows for stable spellforms to manifest externally. This seal stabilises and swiftens channel-based casting, though it reserves a portion of my pool. A combat seal I have drains additional mana from my surroundings, which is pooled and can be consumed to instantly cast a first or second-tier spell.”

  His words drew the attention of every Silver — even Madra and Isaac, who must have been exhausted from their recently finished shaping of the dragon’s teeth.

  “Instantly? Without channelling?” Ophelia asked, shocked.

  Ianmus nodded. “I still have to channel to cast the keyseal in the first place, and it takes time to accumulate the energy it needs — but yes. Instantly. As for how I discovered it: building upon the work of others. My team leader, Kaius, discovered glyphbinding — a form of runic spellcasting. Helping him study its differences to traditional magic, and observing the role of sacred geometry in stabilising his own spells, led to my discovery.”

  Instantly, every single mage turned, locking their eyes on Kaius.

  Ianmus had to stifle a laugh as his friend froze. This was, perhaps, amongst his worst nightmares. Growing up in the middle of a forest had done no favours for Kaius’s comfort at the centre of attention.

  Towards the centre of the Spire, Madra let out a tired grumble. “Two new branches of magic, a greater beast — what’s next?” He thrust his hand out, pointing right at Kenva. “You! Girl! What about you? Godsblessed? Dragonblooded? A complete legacy? Reborn incarnation of a pre-system elven archmagister? No doubt there’s something!”

  Kenva smiled at the man sweetly. “Hereditary scion of the Clan of Zhdan, a ten-merge legacy skill, more than ten honours, and a class that’s every bit as strong as the rest of my team.”

  The other stone mage, Isaac, snorted. “Figures you lot would have something to do with that bloody guild announcement a few days ago. Explains the quick levelling, at least. Impressive, that. Suicidal, but impressive.” He nodded towards Kaius, who still looked like he would be more comfortable hurling himself from the edge of the tower. “How about you show us that fancy new magic of yours? No way I’m going to be able to meditate until then.”

  Kaius awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, before he nodded to an empty corner of the tower. “I’ll cast a Zone of Discombobulation. It won’t harm you, but you will become temporarily confused if you enter the area, so be cautious.”

  A few mages from Ironspire edged further away from where Kaius had nodded. A moment later, light burst from the tightly inscribed script on Kaius’s temples.

  Ianmus watched mana surge through Eirnith, excess expelled as glowing motes of magical energy as the spell snapped into existence — a barely visible shimmer that glowed slightly in his mana sight.

  Every mage in the delegation was held in rapt fascination as they watched the spell snap into existence instantly. It was almost funny — the way they anxiously flicked between the offgassing mana that vented from Kaius’s glyph, and the spell itself. It was like they had witnessed a mirage that might vanish if they so much as breathed too heavily.

  Just in front of him, he caught sight of Cantor looking at Kaius, Kaius’s spell, the books in his hand, and then Ianmus’s keyseal once more. His grip tightened.

  “I am invoking the Council’s seal — these treatises must be delivered directly to their hands.” He looked to Ianmus. “These are not the only two copies in existence?”

  “We have one more, copies I inscribed in the hours before your arrival. If time allows, more should be transcribed.”

  Cantor nodded. “Light work for a mage cadre. We should have additional copies distributed amongst all parties present that are Silver or higher. You are right — this knowledge must survive.”