Fizzle sat back from his work for a moment, closing his weary eyes and stretching his back. His eyes felt dry and bloodshot, as if he had not closed them for years. His back had developed a kink that could not be worked out here in the lab. The sounds of construction continued above him as the workers built on the the keep. He had requested an area near the top of the keep where he could look out and view the progress of the tiny village quickly becoming a town. A place where the glorious sunlight could bathe his senses. So much work, so much time spent here in his lab. Interrupted occasionally by his duties to the fledgling "kingdom" that was soon to come.
Already some of his companions had begun to refer to themselves as lords of the kingdom, setting meetings and assigning cabinet posts to any takers. But he knew most of these posts would be vacated before long, the typical human attention span being what it was. Had he not heard already that the post of treasurer was vacant? A suitable replacement needed to be found until someone truly inspired by the duties of a growing economy came along. It was only a matter of time before those who had been overlooked and trampled upon in the larger cities heard of this upstart community and decided to resettle here. He would keep a watchful eye for the spark of inspiration that these humans were known for, also for the hunger that corrupted so many of them and would be poison to a new kingdom.
He looked back to his latest creation, not a chemical substance or a formula for some wholly pleasurable reaction, but a complex drawing. The architectural plans for his proposed academy. This coming month he would graduate two promising apprentices to his academy in name. He suspected they would go on to great things in their fields, perhaps they would stay on here and help grow a foundation for learning in the community. He would assign them duties in the community if they stayed for more advanced studies. Teaching the masses to read, write and think for themselves.
What would a kingdom of literate peasants look like? In his own youth every elf was expected to read and write in multiple languages at a very young age. But here he knew less than a fifth of the population was literate. Was this how the humans kept their power? By preventing the masses from reading they were kept from thinking on any meaningful level. Kept in fear by by the power of the very real gods. Not here, his academy would not only be a place for magical research, but an institution of history, religion, arts, and above all else scientific thought. If this village is to become a kingdom, it's citizens must learn that they are the masters of their own destiny.
A knock at the door interrupted his broodings, the smell of chloroform wafted under the door
"Enter, Mr. Galton"
The door popped open and the very excitable Francis Galton entered.
"Magistrate Lanliss"
"Yes mr. Galton, how may I help you today?"
Galton was an excessively nervous but brilliant young human who showed promise as a biologist. His background was in animal husbandry and he had some exciting ideas on how to improve the breeding stock of not only the local cattle and sheep, but also on adapting several crops to this harshly cold climate.
His friends took to calling him twitch.
He was kept away from the explosives.
"Packages for you sir... One is from Iadara."
Fizzle could barely contain his excitement, the old man has come through at last!
"thank you, place them on the desk"
Galton paused, there was no room on any of the desks.
"Anything else?"
"N no sir" he glanced at a pile that looked promisingly stable...
"Very well then."
Twitch gingerly placed the packages on the pile, which immediately fell to the floor.
"that's fine, Galton, just leave them" Fizzle sighed.
"Th thank you sir, sorry"
Well away from the explosives
The door shut as Galton shuffled down the passageway, as soon as it was closed Fizzle leapt for the package from Iadara.
The scroll was elegantly written on excellent parchment and he could practically smell the magic sparking across the lettering. He took time to write a copy into his formulary, not that he thought it would be useful, but he wanted to study the properties of the powerful magic at length.
A tiny note fell from the case as he returned the scroll.
"to the son of Lanliss, this CONCLUDES our business"
Fizzle chuckled at the memory.
"perhaps"
Another package from Restov contained some ingredients he required for another tricky piece of magic involving a blood-fey. He inspected the ingredients and took a moment to chop and powder them, then labeled and placed them in his pack.
A third contained some maps and an elven history book he had requested. The maps were very old and he spent still more time making copies.
The final was a letter on which Oleg had written:
"This came to the post, delivered by some lawyer"
He looked at the lettering on the envelope and was stabbed with pain for a second. He unceremoniously dropped the letter into the fire, unopened.
He left the lab then and headed for the stores, off to the side of the keep and behind reinforced walls specially designed to vent a blast instead of containing it. He passes several guards and unlocked the doors. Taking stock of his years work, he reflected on what time and patience could accomplish. Barrels and crates of alchemical supplies filled the storeroom floor to ceiling. Unguents and powders and goods of every variety, there was a crate marked thunderstones, flasks of liquid ice, and of course more alchemist's fire than you could shake a yak at, not that you would shake too hard mind you. He took time to take inventory again and when he did he found nothing was missing. He went to the back and opened a secret compartment he himself had built. Inside he inventoried his small case of poisons he had painstakingly crafted from all manner of vile ingredients. Blue whinnies, drow poison, oil of taggit, wyvern poison, large scorpion venom. All in its place and all accounted for.
It had grown very late by this time and the moon shone palely upon the streets as Fizzle left the castle behind. He was tempted to meditate at this point, but the ride ahead was to be a short and hopefully uneventful one. A little weariness is good for the soul, he thought. As he made his way to the stables, he began calculating the amount of gas fuel it would take to put the village on gas lighting. He hit a stop when he realized he had no idea of how many people were here now and how fast the village was growing. Making a note to begin a census with the new year and a method of registering new arrivals to be proposed at the next cursed meeting, he moved deftly into the stables without disturbing the horses and found his own mount. He gently woke the steed and fed her an apple to get her ready for the coming journey. She was the finest he could find, able to move swiftly through the plains and fields and rarely tire. She seemed to thrill in the ability to run long distances at a full gallop, long after others had stopped. She consumed a heroic number of apples, Galton claimed it to do with something he called a metabolic rate. He had purchased her from a racing trainer who claimed she had gone lame but Fizzle had nursed her back to health and found a perfect mix of herbs and exercise, as well as a tiny bit of mutagen which he had adapted for her physiology and placed into the apples he fed her. He had named her in elven and the common translation was stand tall, though in elven it sounds better. With her saddle and blanket in place, Fizzle brought out the map once again and made some quick calculations before mounting Stand Tall and urging her gently out of the sleeping village.
Once clear of the outskirts, he whistled sharply and Stand Tall shot through the night, gaining speed as she woke up fully. They flew north along the road for several miles, eating up ground at an almost alarming pace. When they came to the rise of a small hill, he stopped her and consulted the map he had received today and another he had been working on from his studies. Bringing out his compass, he took a reading on the map and set a course just north of west and set off at a brisk pace. A short time later he came to an outcropping of granite stone in a depression. As the sun began to glow in the east, Fizzle dismounted and began his search. The morning was bitterly cold and he was having a difficult time concentrating so he returned to his saddlebag and removed an extract and an apple. The apple he fed to Stand tall, and the extract he downed in a gulp, restoppered the vial and replaced it in his bag. Instantly he felt the cold air leave him and the morning felt as comfortable as late spring. Thinking clearly now, he reached into the saddlebag and found another vial, this one with an eye dropper in it. He removed the cap and dropped two drops into each eye, then took a strong whiff of the extract and replaced the vial. Gradually he became aware of the colors around him becoming more pronounced, as if the sun was already high in the sky. He could smell the granite outcrop from where he stood, and something else...
He walked toward the outcrop to where the smell emanated and found a mound with a small piece of ivory just breaking the surface. It took only a few minutes to dig beneath the earth and uncover what looked to be the remains of an ancient signpost. Etched vertically into the post were flowing runes Fizzle recognized as elven. He took out his map and searched briefly before frowning.
"This is in the wrong place... This should be further to the north..."
Sighing, he marked the map and folded it away into his cloak.
"I'll need to redraw the entire thing now."
Digging a bit further, he discovered the post was melded with a rock base somehow, the base was purest white marble. More time spent collecting samples and sketching the sight and by then the sun was high and he had grown very weary. He walked back to his mount, fed her another apple and turned towards town, slower this time, allowing Stand Tall to set her own pace.
Still, he could not be too disappointed. A name was wrong or the record was wrong or someone drew the map while drinking or placed the sign in the wrong place for all he knew. But the ivory and the marble and the script on the post all strengthened his theories. What he had found was an elven quarry. Certainly exhausted now, but whoever had used it had built grand structures from its white marble. If the quarry existed, the structures existed. And if the structures existed then perhaps such a civilization had made use of the gates to transport themselves who knows where. It was an interesting theory and would certainly benefit the kingdom to be, but he needed to search for something that wasn't covered by earth and time and that meant more study of the possible sites. He made a note to ask the sorcerer (he could still not think of the child who was nearly eaten by simple wolves not long ago as the baron) his opinion on sending scouting teams but he knew there would be time. If this soon to be king would not see the benefit of researching these sights the next one might, or the next one after that. Plenty of time, no rush on this little project.
The blade of thorns, however, would need to be repaired soon and the blood fey seen to or his friend might wind up dead thirty years before his time. He wasn't certain yet but he felt there to be a connection between this blade and the curse upon the valiant knight. The ingredients he received yesterday should provide him with a method of trapping the vile creature if it could be summoned. How to dispose of it after then would be another trick. If he could make the trap permanent, it would give them time to study it's weaknesses, perhaps in a couple of centuries they could devise a means of disposing of the creature.
But first he would speak to Zuhair. The man had gone too long without being able to read and it had recently hurt his reputation. More than that if a man who was held in such esteem by the people was a known illiterate, it would discourage the townsfolk from reading themselves. But if he learned to read and told everyone how great it was to read the written word of his beloved goddess...
No, he thought as the keep came into view, first will be food and rest. He could smell the aroma of a feast in the great hall, fresh pig?
