“Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?” Torvald’s mother said, her voice tinged with exasperation. They were sitting in the rooms their family shared in the castle, where she’d practically dragged him the moment the meeting ehey were han a Guard ander’s family could normally hope for, owing in no small part to the woman sitting in front of him. If she didn’t hate politid intrigue so much, his mht have been running this city by virtue of her birth alone.

  “I agreed to do whatever the Goddess demands.” Torvald said vaguely. Ruzinia had given him an answer, sure, but the exact meaning of it hadn't been clearer to him than anyone else. Still, he knew whom he served. That was good enough for him.

  His mother scowled at him, but her tone leading. “You have no idea what you’re walking into – yetting the wrong sort of attention! It’s bad enough that you became a padin to Ruzinia and saved the city, now yetting thrust into the middle of a multinational iation to reactivate the Invigition! This is dangerous, Torvald.”

  “The cve?” Torvald frowned. “I thought you’d be more worried about the fighting if Nets his way. I would have to go, you know.”

  “Fighting? No,” she scoffed. “Your father and I always knew you’d be a fighter. You could urn your ba a bully. That was fine, mostly. You know who your enemies are in a fight. I’m talking about politics! The family barely knew you existed a few weeks ago, with your father being a oner. Now, with this, they’re going to take an i. They’re going to try to draw you into their games. They'll want you as a tool.”

  “Mom,” Torvald protested, “it’s fine! What they even do? We're not going to Teres, and I’m a padin. Everything will work out as long as I follow the will of Ruzinia.”

  “Politis don’t respect the will of the gods!” she said seriously, leaning forward aing his eyes to le to her words. “They are maniputors, and they’ll find a way to get what they want. They work with priests and padins every day, and you have no idea what you’re doing!”

  “Of course I do!” Torvald retorted. he couldn't help but feel a the accusation. “I studied court and temple procedures during my schooling, and I got great marks! You’re w over nothing.”

  “Oh Valdy,” his mother said, shaking her head as she sat back. “Listen to me. You learned what you might o know as a guard ander or low-ranking priest. But yoing up against diplomats and noble courtiers with a lifetime of experiehe family, maybe Renias himself, will probably send a legitimator to handle you, since you’ll be officially ag on behalf of the temple, not Besermark. Teically, you're already sidered a f.”

  Torvald blinked. “What do you mean? I’m a Beseri citizen – the king is my sed cousin! I work for the gover, and I don’t need handling! What oh is a legitimator?”

  “This is exactly what I was talking about!” she replied, gring at him. “The Invigition has its own rules and protocols. They’re mostly ceremonial nowadays, but that doesn’t mean they’re not important! The temples acted on their own across the entire former empire for turies to fight warlocks and their demons and who knows what else. The temple of Noruk even had its own armies! Did you think the gover would just let them march around the try without ht?”

  Torvald shrugged, but didn’t respond. He had thought that. Who would try to tell a god what to do? That was crazy!

  “Priests who a the name of the Invigition have a special indepe status, but that also es with strings. You need a legitimator – a gover representative – to apany you on Beseri soil. They’re required to report on your activities, advise you and ehat you a the best is of the gover. A legitimator who could manipute their charge to pursue their quest in just the right way could reap enormous bes for themselves or their families. You’re at a huge disadvantage, because you don’t know these people.” She rubbed at her face with both hands. “One of the reasons I wao move here was to get away from all the intrigue and backstabbing. We made it, too! And now yoing to walk right bato it.”

  That… well, that did sound dangerous. Torvald didn’t want to py politics. That art of the reason he’d gravitated toward the worship of Ruzinia. Ruzinians didn’t py games, they just went wherever the trouble was and intervened, no questions asked. He needed a way to nip this in the bud, to avoid pying the game, if he could.

  “ I influence who it is?" he asked. "Who chooses the legitimators?”

  “Normally, the legitimators are selected by the King in Teres or the Duke of Norhold, sihat’s the usual port of entry for priests ing in from Madzhur. t Narald has the right, in this case – you’re in his territory. The family might still send someohough. They're going to want to get involved.”

  Torvald frowhoughtfully. “What happens if I already have one? Will the king just overrule the t?”

  “Maybe,” his mother said uainly. “Though doing that would be an insult to Narald, si would imply that the t isn’t ag in the best i of the kingdom. Still, if Renias takes a personal i…”

  “Alright,” he said, subdued. “What do I do?”

  “The t could pick almost anyone, in theory. Like I said, it’s seen mostly as a ceremonial, nowadays. Normally, the king liked to give these kinds of postings to retives or favored servants as a way to honor them and give them an easy job. Mostly. When I was young, an Illurian priest of Barian came to prea Besermark and cimed his rights uhe Invigition. Grandpa Erivern appointed his you brother as a legitimator to punish him for embarrassing him in front of the Kallrixian ambassador a few weeks earlier.”

  She chuckled darkly at the memory. “Yreat-uncle Olias hates traveling and religion, both. He had to folloriest of Barian all over the try for three years and listen to him preach about the dangers of demon-summoning. The old bastard deserved it, though. He’s an insufferable drunk and a lecher. Anyway, it’s not so plicated. You just o get ahead of the politi this. Your father reend someone reliable to the t for you who will watch your bad do the job properly. I put a word in directly with the t tonight or tomorrow at the test. He ’t fault me for wanting someone reliable to watch over you. We just o do it before the guilds get involved, or this is going to get a lot more plicated.”

  “Wait,” mused Torvald, “it be just a regur guard? Do you think I get one of my colleagues?”

  ***

  Uriah trudged along, just one more man in a seemingly endless line ed refugees headi—toward Halfbridge. Far more people had made it out than he’d inally expected. They said the Duergar had e up underh them in the ter of the city ahe entire p fire in a matter of mihey hadn’t bothered to chase the runners from the outskirts. Five days ter, though, they were still looking over their shoulders.

  Yesterday, they’d reached the headwaters of the Uvner watershed and now the road ran along a stream that Uriah knew would grow into a rushing river when it met up with aner stream a day’s march from here.

  He could turn south and follow the river back to Halfbridge. Ed had wao fight those evil little shits. From what he’d heard, the Underkeepers had fought them. No, they’d crushed them. Rumor had it that they were even f Duergar prisoo rebuild the parts of the city they’d damaged.

  The military wouldn’t take him as a war mage, not uhey were desperate. But Ed would.

  But... he’d had a few days to think about it, now. He was tired, and he’d seen far too much. If he followed that other stream north for a few days, he’d reach a rge farming town named Henfelden, where nobody had ever seen an actual demon, or heard tell of any strange gray-skinned dwarves.

  Well, they would have heard by now, but it was that sort of pce.

  Pa was getting old now, and Sephus would be taking over the family business. He could go and help—water the fields and hire out to the neighbors. Hell, he knew more about moving manure around than your average farmer would ever bother to sider.

  It wasn’t much, but it would be ho work.

  Soon, he would have to make a decision.

  ***

  Bernt flipped another pyromancy manual closed and pced it on the growing stack beside him before flipping open the one, a bestiary describing the creatures of eastern Kallrix, he southern border of the Phoenix Reaches. Today was his first day off sihe battle, and it was his first opportunity to finally do some serious research. He’d already been here for hours, but so far he hadn’t found anything that looked like a solution.

  He’d known that there were hundreds of different specifivestiture materials out there for every specialization a mage might care to pursue. Still, it was different to actually read about them all. Fire-resistant ferns that grew near Gobford, burning venom from aise Sehesh, a type of fog from Miria that gradually raised the ambient temperature acc to the caster’s will. There was even a type of mold that grew down in the Depths that would spontaneously ignite a few days after iing a host, spreading highly iious spores for miles around the victim. The only wizard mad enough to build an architecture that included it had beeed for war crimes, acc to the footnote.

  Whe had arrived, he’d asked Haln about materials that might bridge the gap between his sorcerous iure and his more traditional one, but the librarian had only shrugged. “What does it eveo have a sorcerous iure? Why does it work at all? It’s an academic blind spot. You’re the one who’s going to have to ahese questions.”

  Despite that unhelpful pronou, the librarian had taken to the problem with enthusiasm. He’d pulled out every book and scrap of knowledge he knew arding pyromancy, as well as a few that described a variety of creatures with magical abilities.

  These were especially iing – monsters like wyverns iant fire samanders clearly had some kind of sorcerous abilities, so there had to be something to learn there. Unfortunately, it was clear that they used these to cast spells, just as he did. There were no materials to use there. The only someromisiry featured a beautiful rendering of a r lion called a bzemane. If it had an actual burning mahen maybe he could use that as an iure material. But then what? Would he get permaly burning hair? That seemed like it would be worse than useless, even if it worked as a way to form an augmentation.

  Frustrated, he smmed the bestiary shut and sighed, tiredly. He didn’t have to find some kind of perfect material. He could still do as Pollock had suggested and just use a normal one. If it didn’t fuse into an augmentation, he would simply have to learn to develop the different portions of his mawork indepely. Of course, that would present a new problem: learning how to grow his sorcerous iure. That, and it would take even loo bee a real magister.

  The travelogue of Finnerixes tained a few hints, but he wasn’t sure they would apply. The savage sorcerers of the Mirian interior didn’t start out with a sorawork. They ate the hearts of fae creatures to ignite some kind of tral point they called the Dan- and then somehow guided its overflowing energies into creating a new work for them. Bernt’s experience had been nothing like that, and he had no iion of eating an intelligent creature to get on the same page.

  If only Jori was here. He knew she ed souls to achieve a simir effect as those sorcerers, but she could at least tell him what it was supposed to feel like. There hadn’t been time to talk about it before the Solicitors had forced her to leave. Besides, he just missed her. She had a way of looking at the world that made everything seem a little brighter. The part of his mind that ected him to the imp was dull, barely giving him a sense of her existeill, that he had any e left at all was a fort.

  A e.

  Bernt sat bolt upright, nearly dropping the book. How could he have been so stupid!? It had been right there the eime. Setting the book down carefully, he rushed out of the small study room and to the front desk.

  “Haln, I’ve got an idea! Do you have as about familiar bonds? Not the manual, I heoretical analyses, maybe experimental notes if you have any.”

  Haln looked up from the book he was reading at his desk with a quizzical expression. “Bonds? Why?” Then his eyes lit up in uanding and he scowled. “Dammit Bernt. No! It was a terrible idea at the academy, and it’s still stupid now. You are not putting a familiar bond on aal. How would that even help?”