—— ? ? ——

  "As we told you, we don't know where he is," Serel said with a sigh, leaning back on the meeting room chair.

  She stared at the woman across the table. Her silver armor seemed to sparkle in the low light of the chamber.

  "Are you sure?" The woman cocked her head, her short platinum hair bouncing. "From all the rumors, this is where he should be. From talking to residents, he was here.” She folded her armored arms and frowned. “Yet, somehow, he’s just vanished into thin air? I just find it hard to believe.”

  Serel pinched the bridge of her nose. "As I said before, he was fighting, and then he vanished. That is truly all we know."

  The armored covered warrior squinted her silvery eyes in suspicion. "And how am I supposed to believe that? The first thing you did was imprison me. Now you let me roam freely, yet refuse to answer any questions.” She looked to the side, sneering at the hooded figure in the back. “And you dug into my mind. I did not give you permission, yet you did it anyway. Disgusting.”

  Serel frowned at that. “These are dangerous times, Altera. You are the one who willingly chose to approach our city, despite being told to leave,” she gestured toward the other person in the room. “Besides, using advanced identification is not ‘digging’ into someones mind. Do not misrepresent events that occurred.”

  The woman in armor, Altera, tensed her shoulders and shifted. Her eyes darted between the hooded figure and Serel.

  “I still didn’t allow the invasion into my status. I should not be treated as some criminal for this ‘enemy’ you supposedly fight.”

  The hooded figure stepped forward, pulling back his hood to reveal Emrick’s intense gaze. His nasally voice pierced the air. "And it surprises me that you haven't encountered our ‘enemy’ you dismiss so casually." He glanced around the room. "For one as well-traveled as you claim, it’s more than suspicious that you have yet to encounter Varrax or his minions.”

  Altera sighed. “I told you, our hub wasn’t ‘invaded’. Neither were any of the towns between me and this frozen wasteland,” she tapped her fingers on her gauntlet. “So you would understand why I am dismissive. Perhaps once I find the man I’m searching for, I’ll have more opportunities to engage with your ‘enemy’.”

  "And you just ignored all the messages about all the towns that fell?" Emrick asked, shaking his head. “Can you really be that dense?”

  The woman shrugged. "It's not my business."

  Emrick and Serel exchanged glances. Serel met the warrior's eyes again. “You seem quite… selective about what your ‘business’ entails.”

  Altera grinned. “Sure.” Her eyes shifted between them. “Now, will you tell me what I wish to know? Tell me where I can find the bunny-slayer.”

  Serel and Emrick shared a sigh.

  "And we've told you he's not here," Serel replied, exhausted. "And you asking every day doesn't change that fact."

  "Well," the woman laughed. "I'll just ask tomorrow. Maybe he'll be here!." She gave Serel a wide smile, then rose from her stone chair. "You never know…Maybe someone will magically and mysteriously find him."

  She gave them a nod, then spun and strode from the room.

  Serel leaned forward, placing her head in her hands, and groaned. “That woman is so frustrating.” Her slender fingers lightened as she pressed them into her scalp. “She’s stubborn and relentless. Countless things need to be accomplished, yet this is what she chooses to spend days on?”

  Emrick chuckled, walking over and taking Alteras abandoned seat. “I almost worried about her finding Simon. The world might not survive both of their stubborn attitudes combined.”

  Serel straightened, meeting the tailor’s eyes. She couldn’t help as her gaze was pulled down and locked onto the man’s hands. An unnerving feeling crawled up her spine. Emick’s hand flickered and ungulated, as the threads that composed it squirmed and wove over each other. Even after months since the change, her mind struggled to ignore the strange sight.

  “You’re staring again, Serel.” Emrick grinned.

  Serel’s eyes snapped to his, and she gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Emrick. I know I’ve said this before, but I still don’t understand how you don’t mind the… change.”

  Emrick shrugged. “It’s honestly quite useful.” He held up his hand, and his fingers shifted. Each thinned as it grew into sharp points. At their end, a single thread extended several inches and stiffened. “The change was only difficult for the first week. Since then, it has been nothing but a boon.” He rotated his wrist, and his ‘fingers’ held their position in relative space. As if an unseen force stabilized them mid-air. “My needlework and crafting speeds have only increased with familiarity. If I had to do it again, I honestly believe I would.” His eyes shifted from his hand back to Serel. “And as I tell everyone who asks. It doesn’t feel the way you see it. The threads feel as if they are a part of me. It’s hard to describe.”

  Emrick smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “So, oh Shadow of the Council, how will we deal with our unwanted guest?”

  Serel frowned. “Oh, I don’t know, ‘Death Weaver’, what would you suggest?”

  “Bah.” Emrick waved his good hand. “Alright, I deserve that one,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand why that’s the name everyone seems intent on calling me. I’m a tailor!”

  “Perhaps it has to do with your prowess during expeditions?” Serel rolled her eyes. “From all reports, you are becoming less and less of a tailor with every encounter.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? It’s become clear we cannot sit idly in this new world. Regardless of how we feel, Varrax seems intent on bringing war to every city.” Emrick grumbled. “As far as our guest is concerned.” He let out a long sigh. “While she is frustrating, you cannot deny that she is useful. Kurda has been singing her praises for the last week. Apparently, she talked to him at length about Simon. That man seems to have a knack for enlisting incorrigible people into his mountain projects.”

  Serel gave a nod of agreement. If only Kurda could keep the woman busy all hours of the day. One could hope.

  “Speaking of projects, how is planning for the latest expedition going?” She asked.

  “Well enough. We will enter the realm of the adapter this week.”

  At least that was some good news. Serel picked up a pen and made a note on a clean sheet on the table. “Six so far is excellent progress,” she said, looking up. “Are there issues with the frost-king?”

  Emrick grimaced. “No. But we should discuss my ‘guard’ duty. I hate that burning hellhole. They need to find someone else to protect them while they adapt.”

  “You know why they ask you to protect them in the realm of the forger. Their…” Serel paused, then sighed. “Trust is quite limited. It’s a miracle we have maintained any form of relationship with them.”

  “Ha!” Emrick laughed. “It’s simply because I was able to recreate those frostsails of theirs. It’s not as if they trust me anymore than you.”

  “You know how important those are to them. I would not dismiss how you have contributed to their people.”

  “I know, I know,” Emrick replied. “But the sooner they trust someone else, the better. I despise sitting in that searing shit pile of a realm. It doesn’t help that I just get to hear them moaning, crying, and complaining about how ‘hot’ it is, and how ‘painful’ it is. They are the ones who signed up to train their bodies to resist the heat. No one is forcing them.”

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

  Serel drummed her fingers on the stone table. “But, someone is.” Her face tightened. “Our enemy. They are under just as much pressure. If they are ever forced to leave this valley, that skill will save their lives.”

  Emrick nodded grimly. “True.” He rose from the chair. “Then I suppose I can cease my complaints. It’s not as–”

  The sound of a deep horn blast cut off his words.

  Emrick spun, his steps accelerating as he made for the door. “Seems we have more visitors. I will go find out who it is.” He spat out as he left.

  Serel pulled up her status, and her eyes raced across the names of her current party. The scouts she was currently connected to were all in the wilderness, nowhere near the tunnel gate.

  She hesitated, but then decided caution was better in this scenario. Serel shot a quick mental communication to each, commanding their return to Varnholt.

  Acknowledgments flowed back to her, and she rose and left the room herself.

  Halfway out of the town hall, she spotted a gleaming figure leaning against the wall.

  “So, that’s the same horn that was blown when I arrived, eh?” Altera grinned. “Maybe it’s our missing slayer?”

  Serel quickly passed her, but the insufferable woman fell in step with her.

  “No. They wouldn’t signal an alert if it was a known entity.”

  “Oh?” Altera’s eyes sparkled. “Now I’m even more curious.”

  Serel sighed.

  “Do what you wish.” She turned her head to Altera, her eyes sharp. “However, if you interfere or cause trouble, I will throw you out of our city faster than you can apologise.”

  Altera stepped forward and opened and held the large hall’s doors for Serel. “Don’t worry.” She smiled as Serel passed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. That would mean I would be deprived of our wonderful daily chats!”

  If only we lived in such a world… Serel thought to herself as she sped down the street.

  —— ? ? ——

  “Don’t come any closer!” The deep voice boomed over the snow. “Identify yourself!”

  “Sheesh. Isn’t this place supposed to be a city of crafters?” Scott whispered to Tova. “This sure doesn’t look like the right place.”

  “It has to be. Every map says it’s right over that mountain,” Tova hissed back. “But yeah, it’s unlike any of my expectations.”

  The duo stared at the towering mountain that reached for the heavens. Around them, the blinding snow reflected the sun from the cloudless sky. From the reports and information they had been able to scrounge up, this should be the right place.

  Both stared at the massive walls and gate that seemed to grow from the mountain itself. The walls were thick, rising easily over a hundred feet above. The gate gleamed in the sunlight, the pitch-black metal it was forged from almost menacing. Tova didn’t recognize the material, but she was no expert.

  “We are simply travellers, and are searching for my friend!” Scott called out, his voice calm and his signature charm on full display. “We wondered if you may have heard of him!”

  “Share your status!” The deep voice rumbled back.

  Tova and Scott visibly relaxed.

  “Seems they don’t have identify,” Tova whispered. “You didn’t forget to activate your bracelet again, right?”

  “It was one time,” Scott replied. “One time, Tova!”

  “Yeah, one time that had us nearly thrown in prison. No one trusts anyone. For good reason, too.” She winked at him. “You never know who is going to show up.”

  With a mental command, she willed her status in front of her. She double checked that the obscuring item was engaged, then mentally pushed it towards the distant figure on the wall.

  She saw Scott’s eyes were glazed over as he did the same.

  After a long moment, the voice on the wall called out. “You may approach the gate.”

  The two exchanged nervous looks. Scott shrugged, then confidently walked forward. They moved to the edge of the wall's shadow and then stopped.

  There was a small door laid into the gate, and an even smaller slit opened. Amber eyes on a flat face stared out at them.

  “Greetings, good person!” Scott said, not missing a beat. “I am Scott Ripple, and this is Tova Nullspark. We have traveled far and wish to only ask a few–”

  “[Identify]” The voice behind the door interrupted him.

  They both froze.

  You had better not have been lying, damned mage. Tova thought, her legs bracing as she prepared to sprint away. Their bracelets should be effective against low-level information skills. At least that was what the shady man promised.

  They had never had a chance to test it. Tova now desperately wished they had.

  There was a grunt from behind the door, then it swung open slowly to reveal a massive figure. Tall, hulking, and fur-covered. Hoofed feet stomped forward as the figure’s flat face stared toward them with amber eyes. Their body was covered in dark plates of metal, and they held a brutal mace in a relaxed grip. Everything about them was menacing. Well, everything except for the odd hat. On their head, with curved horns sticking through, was a white fur hat. The fur looked soft, but the strangest thing was the two ears that flopped to the sides.

  “Are you satisfied?” Scott asked carefully. “This is quite the security… and uh… nice hat?”

  The figures' posture immediately tensed, and they squinted their amber eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, uh… the…” Scott stammered, but was saved by Tova.

  “It’s a unique headwear. I’m interested, does it have special properties? It’s quite the menacing attire.”

  Scott glanced down at the yoreboon and gave a subtle nod to her.

  The figure visibly relaxed. “It is the sign of our liberator.” He boomed, his deep voice almost causing the snow to shake. “Now. What is your purpose here?”

  Scott relaxed, his charming smile returning. “I am searching for a friend from my old world. My traveling companion has graciously allowed me to stop at any town we happen upon. Could I ask if you have heard of him?”

  “Name.”

  Scott smiled. “He was known as Simon. At least that was his name before. I believe he goes by… Starfall now? I am not sure.”

  The big creature froze. His hand gripped his weapon tighter.

  Bingo! Tova grinned internally. This guy knew that name.

  After a moment, the large creature spoke. “I do not know that name.”

  Bullshit.

  Scott was much more tactful. His face dropped as he sighed. “That is too bad.” He glanced up. “Is there perhaps someone we could speak with who may know? If not, I understand.”

  The guard stared at them for a long moment. “Wait.”

  With that, he shut the door, and stomped off. Tova and Scott exchanged glances, both hiding their enthusiasm.

  There was no way these people didn’t know that name. That reaction was proof enough for them.

  A few minutes passed before the sound of heavy footsteps was heard again. The small metal door was pulled open, and the same guard waved them in.

  “Come in. There may be someone you can speak with.”

  The duo exchanged glances again, and then they both nodded.

  It was now or never. Thank the stars they had paid that mage. Their goal was now within reach.

  They squeezed past the guard, and the door was shut behind them.

  “Keep moving.” The big creature rumbled. The two walked through the passageway that was barely large enough for their escort.

  They finally reached the other end, where an open door awaited them. Scott whistled in amazement as he stepped out and to the side.

  “Your wall is impressive! I don’t think I have seen defences this substantial.”

  Tova nodded in agreement. It was insane. Had their sources been wrong? This seemed more like a military camp than a crafting city.

  “It’s a dangerous world,” a thin voice replied. “You can never be too careful.”

  The two shifted their attention to the source of the voice. A lanky, thin man dropped down from a ledge, his eyes piercing them.

  Scott stepped toward him, holding out a hand. “I’m Scott Ripple!” He beamed.

  The thin man smiled, a glint in his eye. Tova tensed, immediately on guard. She did not like the way that man looked at them.

  “I’m Emrick,” the man said, moving his arm and extending the wrong hand to shake. Scott immediately tried to adjust and switch hands, but then gasped. Emrick’s hand had shot forward and now shook his own.

  Tova felt a chill as she watched the man’s hand unravel and embrace her companion's hand. They shook, Scott’s face going white as a sheet. The joviality in his posture melted away, and he tried to pull back.

  But his hand wouldn’t budge. The strange threads from this ‘Emrick’ had spun around Scott’s hand.

  “Uh… that’s a… neat trick.” Scott squeaked out.

  “You like it? It’s one of my favorites.” Emrick replied, his face pulled into a predatory grin. “But, I’m more impressed with your trick.”

  “Ha ha!” Scott chuckled nervously. “Care to explain? And uh… let go of my hand? Ha ha!”

  Emrick grinned, his eyes gleaming. “I think you know.”

  Tova felt pressure on her shoulder, and her eyes snapped to it. A tree trunk-like hand dug into her shoulder. She followed the hand to its owner, and the massive guard stared her down.

  “You see. I wasn’t aware you could change the results of an identity.” Emrick said, his voice slow and deadly. “I knew you could prevent information from being shown, but I must admit, misrepresenting your status is new.”

  Scott gasped, causing Tova to look. Her blood ran cold as she saw the silvery thread encircling her friend's throat. She turned her gaze to Emrick.

  “I believe we should have a nice, long chat.” He said, with a sickly smile. “Don’t you?”

  Scott gulped, sweat dripping from his face as he nervously nodded.

  “Especially since you aren’t from Simon’s world as you have claimed.”

  Tova paled.

  Shit.

  —— ? ? ——

  In a distant realm, Simon sneezed.

  “Just how in the hell would I be getting sick?” Simon muttered to himself. “I need to get the hell out of this place. Being alone for this long can’t be healthy for one’s mental health.”

  He nodded in agreement with himself.

  “YOU AREN’T SANE TO BEGIN WITH!!!!” A voice screeched across the hall.

  “Oh shut the fuck up, ‘guardian of the prison’,” Simon said with a laugh. “There’s no need to yell!”

  There was a long moment of silence, then the voice, quieter, replied. “Fine. Then will you agree to leave?”

  Simon grinned as he rose from where he had been napping. He flexed his muscles, and the bunny ears on his head bounced.

  “No way in hell. I have so many fun challenges to beat!” Simon shouted back as he stared through the open door and the long hallway.

  “... YOU AREN’T BEATING THEM. YOU ARE… YOU ARE… “

  Simon grinned. “Yes, I am, just look how much progress I’ve made!” He held a hand to his heart. “And thanks to you, I have learned so much about the wonders of being a musician and songwriter.” Simon bowed his head. “Thank you, Guardian, for showing me the true way.”

  His head snapped up, and his eyes gleamed.

  “My way.”

  “GAHHHHHH!”

  —— ? ? ——

  NEW QUEST!

  OBJECTIVE: Teach spellcraft to the magically attuned.

  REWARD: Your greatest desire.

  Immediately, the prompt made Wilbur suspicious. The reward could be anything.

  Inner peace? Belonging? A cosmic therapy session?

  Wilbur rolled his eyes at the broken System. “Nice try.” What could it possibly offer a wizard at the peak of magical power?

  Apparently, a lot.

  The revised reward? Chronomancy.

  The magic to control time. The thing he’d been chasing for centuries. The missing piece to return to Earth.

  Not the strangely empty, radioactive ruin of the present… but the one he’d lost. Full of cheap takeout, terrible movies, and addictive warm beverages.

  …Of course, nothing this good is free.

  Build a magical school? Check, done.

  Train people to use spellcraft? Easy;

  Convince them to burn the arcane into their flesh permanently? Easy...right?

  Just ignore the Radiant church foaming at the mouth, screaming "HERESEY!"

  Turns out, the hardest part isn't the magic.

  It’s people.