4.26 A Modest Proposal

Tolland, the long winded old Madzhuri representative, is now a paladin again (totally forgot in an earlier scene and made him a priest, this will be cleaned up in the rr version)

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The innkeeper’s suggestion that Bernt could find a spot to sleep in Nirlig and Uriah’s room turned out to be somewhat overoptimistic. Their tiny room barely fit the two cots that were already there, and he ended up squeezing his bedroll down on the floor between them. Of course, that didn’t stop the smirking innkeeper from collecting his silver mark the next morning.

Groggily, Bernt made his way out into the street and back to Norhold’s administrative command center. Despite his lack of an escort this time, the guard waved him through to continue his work rehabilitating Norhold’s burnouts. Unlike the day before, the research lab was mostly empty, with just a handful of uniformed soldiers waiting for treatment. The novelty had apparently worn off for most of his prospective patients after watching him repeat the same process over and over the day before. Only a handful of people were there, probably those who’d been ordered to appear by archmage Dalbrand. There was no sign of Jopuri.

Bernt greeted them and got to work. His first patient of the day was a dwarven hydromancer from the engineering corps. The procedure went smoothly, and she left with a smile on her face. As he worked on the next one, Dalbrand poked his head through the door, saw that everything appeared to be running smoothly and stepped fully into the room. He watched for a few minutes, then gave Bernt a nod and left, never saying a word.

More people trickled in as the morning wore on – mostly uniformed soldiers, but also a few veterans, including a man who introduced himself as Loris, who turned out to be a retired adventurer. Unlike the active duty soldiers, the grizzled old man asked questions about what Bernt was doing and how it worked. He was especially curious about the potential for dual-casting, asking questions about it that suggested he’d already known about it and was just confirming the rumors. The reason became clear just a moment later, when he brought out his investiture material.

“Is that…?” Bernt’s eyes widened.

“It’s a fairy wing,” Loris confirmed proudly. “My cat brought it home nearly twenty years ago one morning. I was already a magister of hydromancy and I didn’t want to risk that with any strange investitures at the time, but now…”

“You just kept it?” Bernt said incredulously. “It’s probably worth a fortune, why didn’t you sell it?”

Loris shrugged. “I thought I’d give it to my daughter when she got old enough, but it turns out she’s not a mage. Now, though, I think I have another use for it. See, fairy wings are an abjurer’s dream – they shatter incoming spells and disperse the mana.”

“I know, but you’re not one…”

“No. But it should be compatible enough with my existing augmentation. I just didn’t want to risk it… but if you told me the truth, that risk is gone, now. You said when I cast normally, the spellform won’t draw on the sorcerous investiture, right?”

“Right.” Bernt blinked down at the wing in the mage’s hand, realizing what he meant to do. “You’re hoping that the investiture will work well enough with your augmentation to give you an instant shield against magic – all magic. Do you really think it’ll work with a hydromancy architecture?”

The old mage nodded, his face splitting into a grin. “Oh, I expect it’ll work against more than just magic. I spent a few years thinking about this when I was younger. And worst case, I’ll still get my full strength back.”

“Well,” Bernt said, gingerly taking the fairy wing out of his hand and placing it into his diagnostic circle. “It’s your spirit. Let’s find out.”

The spellform wasn’t more complex than the others he’d seen that morning, but it was still far harder to work with. The overall shape, as well as the runes used in its design followed different principles than those commonly found in elemental magic. Abjuration combined elements of barrier spells with warding and other environmental modifiers. The result was unintuitive to Bernt. Still, Loris seemed to have little trouble cleanly threading his damaged spirit through it. 

Bernt, by contrast, was sweating by the time he finished his own part of the process, running his hellfire derivative along the entire thing and carefully wearing down the damaged portions. Still, he’d done well enough. The investiture formed as Loris cycled his mana through the spellform. 

He broke the circle and the patient jerked and hissed as his spirit collapsed back into his body, manifesting painfully into physical reality. A moment later it was over, and Loris rose, rubbing at his shoulder.

“That was unpleasant.” 

Frowning down at his left hand, he stretched it out. Conjured water manifested, flowing from multiple points in the air as if along invisible channels to form an increasingly complex fractal pattern that quickly filled in until it looked more like a clear pane of glass than any kind of hydromancy spell.

“Come on, hit me with your best shot!”

Bernt suppressed a groan – he’d guessed something like this might be coming. 

“I really don’t think…” he tried, but the older man flicked a tiny globe of conjured water at him that splashed onto his robes. It was cold.

“Come on! Show me what you’ve got!”

Bernt clenched his jaw. His manaburn might get through… but that was probably too dangerous. He could weaken the spell, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t still ignite Loris’ spirit. He needed to play this smart – and he needed more than just fire.

Humming softly, Bernt cast a whispering wind spell. He was a bit out of practice with this one, but it should still be plenty distracting. More importantly, it wasn’t a projectile, so it wouldn’t need to get through the shield. 

Sure enough, Loris’ head whipped around. “Wha – ?

Bernt cast a fire dart as weakly as he could straight up into the air. The projectile tugged at his spirit as it went out, curving forward toward his target as it went. It should have gone right over the top of the man’s shield and singed his robes. Instead, it was pulled down, circling oddly once around the shield like a moth around a lamp right before winking out as it struck with a light hiss. Bernt felt the missing mote of his spirit return just a moment later.

Loris looked down at it, then back at Bernt, brows knitting in genuine confusion. “You call that your best shot? Where are the fireballs?!”

“We’re indoors, Loris,” another of the veterans called from the back. “Give it a rest.”

“We can go outside, he protested excitedly, “I’ll try it against everyone. Come on!”

Bernt frowned down at the wet spot on the front of his robes and let mana flow into his flesh. Steam rose.

“I need a break.”  

***

The mood in the Hall of Witnesses had, if anything, grown more tense since the last time they’d been in session. The duke’s roadblock had rattled the Madzhuris and singled them out. Many of the priests of Eyeli and Balarian had moved to sit with their priests of Noruk, leaving their colleagues behind. Torvald wasn’t sure if that was meant to symbolize their support or if it was because they wanted the martial order’s protection. 

At the same time, many of Noruk’s non-Madzhuri representatives had moved away, leaving even the god of war’s followers divided. That felt wrong, but Torvald knew what was happening.

Noruk’s Chosen tended to work directly for the military in whichever country they were called. Paladins fought in the ranks while priests trained soldiers, served as healers or supported nobles as strategic advisors depending on their more specific Calling. Many, maybe all of them, swore loyalty to their kingdom at some point. To betray an oath like that would be unthinkable and blasphemous to them. By speaking out so bluntly against Besermark the other day, Tolland hadn’t just split the Invigilation – he’d created a schism within his own temple.

Now, the old paladin made his way down to the floor once more, emerging from the tight group of Madzhuris. No one rose to stop him – not that many could. He was one of the most senior clerics in the room.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, “Friends. We were called here by the gods themselves, ordered to answer the call of our peers in Halfbridge and the king of Besermark, ostensibly to turn back the tide of an encroaching evil from below. Yet those who called us here were killed before they could speak to us about their true need.” He paused, letting his words sink in for a moment before continuing.

“I know King Renias. We studied together at the Imperial Hall of Records some fifty years ago. He is a good and pious man and one who understands the true depth of our shared history. He knew that when his people were truly threatened, he could turn to the temples for aid, knowing we would answer his call – and they did!”

Torvald frowned. That wasn’t what had happened. The king had barely even been involved at all. In fact, as far as he’d heard from Hannis’ own lips, the Temple of Noruk had started to move well before the Invigilation had even been called to reform here. For that matter, his characterization of the king sounded ridiculous. Besermark and Madzhur had been at odds for decades now. While open war had never been declared, unfriendly rhetoric and the occasional border skirmish were the norm.

“ – but was this call truly just about the Duergar incursion?” Tolland continued. “Has the Beseri army not already shown that they are sufficient to face down this threat? Why would the gods themselves consider such a conflict to be worth our time? They would not! I believe that we are here to answer a cry for help – one that my old friend couldn’t risk voicing out loud. We are being called not to fight a few Duergar warlocks, but to excise the rot suffocating our neighbor – to save a kingdom whose aging king has been betrayed by the guilds, his scheming nobles, and even his own jealous, degenerate brother.”

He spat the last as if trying to get the very reference to Uncle Olias out of his mouth. What was he trying to do? Surely, nobody would actually believe this.

“In the past few days we have all seen first hand how deeply the rot has spread through this once-proud nation. Duke Renhild, with the support of the king’s traitorous disinherited brother, has threatened us with violence for daring to expose the degeneracy festering within his court. They sought to pen us in like animals, in defiance of all diplomatic protocol – all to secure the release of a demon-worshipping cultist.”

The paladin strode around the circle, eyes blazing as he gazed around the room. “They wanted to keep us from taking the warlock to trial, but I ask you – what need is there for a trial anymore, now? What need is there for evidence beyond that which lies before you? These corrupted nobles of Besermark endangered their own beleaguered country and raised their hands against those who came here to save them, for no other reason than to extract the pet warlock they managed to install in our very midst.”

That was enough. Torvald rose to his feet.

"You just made all of this up!" he called out angrily, "Bernt isn't a warlock, and the King would never invite his enemies to invade his own country—thats insane! We don't need to be 'rescued' from ourselves." He looked around, addressing the representatives. "How can you listen to this?!"

Murmurs filled the room and a few shouts of support sounded from behind him. The noise quieted, though, as Tolland raised his hands.

"Quiet! We will have order in this hall." He glared up at Torvald. "This is not a market square. If you wish to address the assembly, you will respond in good order, and, he nodded pointedly to the edge of the floor, "in proper order of seniority."

Following his gaze, Torvald realized that several other representatives had already come down to speak, including, to his chagrin, Doreen. They would be permitted to speak in order of their years of service to their respective temples when Tolland ceded the floor.

A strong hand seized his wrist and pulled him back down to his seat. Song wasn’t even looking at him.

“He provoked you,” the Mirian paladin whispered, "and now he is making you look like a fool."

Torvald gritted his teeth and settled back down as the Madzhuri representative began to speak again, but he could hear others quietly muttering behind him. Most of the people here might not know the details, but they were aware that the situation was far more complicated than man was portraying it to be. As he looked around to gauge their reaction, though, he was still struck by how many people outside of the Madzhuri section appeared to be listening to the speech, their expressions serious.

The priests of Balarian especially seemed more intrigued than affronted. Down at the edge of the floor, and old priestess of Balarian leaned in and whispered something into the ear of one of the Madzhuri Norukites. Torvald had forgotten, for a moment there. These people weren’t listening for the truth. They just wanted to know the angle Tolland was playing.

“In consideration of these facts,” the man continued, filling the hall with his sonorous voice, “I hereby propose that the Invigilation answer King Renias’ call for aid with all haste.” The rising murmur of the crowd subsided, replaced by stunned silence, which the paladin promptly filled. “The Invigilation should stand united against corruption in all its forms, and Besermark has shown itself to be in desperate straits. Its good people are beleaguered, sold out by those who should have protected them to hordes of godless filth even as demon worshippers threaten their very lives from above and below. Who will rescue them from this flood? Who, if not us? What is our purpose, if not this?”

The Madzhuri representatives roared in support, rising to their feet, followed by a few figures across the rest of the hall. Priests leaned in to confer with one another and slowly, a few more stood up to support Tolland’s call. Seeing this, Torvald finally understood. The Madzhuri paladin didn’t want a schism within the Invigilation. He’d fabricated this unspoken plea from King Renias to keep them all united. How could anyone accuse Besermark’s paladins of treachery, when they acted only to save their people and their king?

They hadn’t all taken the bait – most of them hadn’t, but Torvald could practically see them thinking about it as a Madzhuri priest rose to deliver an obviously scripted speech about placing “compromised” Beseri territories under the direct administration of the Invigilation. He leaned over to Song.

“We need to go.”