4.12 Government Backing

“First thing is, of course, I’d like to be paid appropriately for my work,” Bernt began, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t intimidated at all to be negotiating with a high-ranking government representative, and an archmage besides. “My boss and several of my coworkers in Halfbridge are former war mages and I believe I have a good idea of just how valuable I can be to you here.”

The court mage’s office was small but well-appointed, with expensive, padded leather chairs, a plush carpet and a massive desk decoratively carved to display a beautiful mountain landscape on the front panel.

“Of course.” Archmage Dalbrand answered smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “Though we don’t really need you to work for us – we just need the spellform for that unusual red flame you used. I believe the Mages’ Guild has the diagram for it, but they went to great pains to prevent it from leaking.”

Bernt suppressed a wince and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but that spellform isn’t for sale.” If he handed that over, even if it were for a mountain of gold, he would lose his leverage.

The archmage narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. “Why? We can make you a very lucrative offer. This is a matter of some importance to us…”

“I don’t want to offend you or the duke, of course, but I have my own relationship to the Mages’ Guild to consider,” Bernt replied reasonably. “They are under the impression that they’re going to make a killing with this. Undercutting them so completely, after using the support of the Wizard’s Society to develop it, could get me censured. If I’m just using my own spell for my own reasons, though… I don’t see how they could object to that.”

“Fine,” Dalbrand said, waving a hand dismissively. “So, you want to be paid to rehabilitate our burnouts on a contract basis? What are you thinking in terms of compensation? Will you have time to perform upwards of thirty-five of these procedures?”

“Fifteen gold marks each,” Bernt said immediately, having decided on the figure before they entered the office. It was a significant amount of money for Bernt – enough to make him objectively rich if there were really over thirty people to treat here. At the same time, it was cheap compared to the cost of training a brand new war mage for every one that they lost to spiritual damage, so he continued, “and both your and Duke Renhild’s support for my ongoing research. If needed, I’ll stay after the conclave to treat anyone who I haven’t gotten to before then.”

“That… might be possible.” Dalbrand said, his voice tinged with more than a little suspicion. The archmage was looking for a trap. “What kind of research are we talking about, and what manner of support do you require?”

“I’m researching sorcery,” Bernt said, choosing his words carefully, “I want Duke Renhild’s help and material support to establish a formal organization for Beseri sorcerers, either as part of the Mages’ Guild or as a separate, chartered entity if the guild doesn’t agree. We’d need funding, access to information, and the legitimacy that the duke’s support would lend us, especially if we end up operating outside the guild.”

“Ah…” Dalbrand frowned. “That would be a problem. We can’t allow you to create conflicts of interest for the soldiers you rehabilitate or to exercise undue influence on them.”

“Oh!” Bernt interjected, waving a hand to stop him. “No! That’s not what I meant at all. I’m not talking about the soldiers. As it is, my procedure only manifests a small portion of the patient’s spirit physically. That gives them some sorcerous ability, sure, but no real flexibility, nor the ability to grow in power and develop new spellcasting abilities. They’re just mages with one additional trick. I want to build up a civilian organization for true sorcery. My friend Uriah has severe casting limitations due to a tangent in one of his investitures. With your support, I may be able to help him, and others like him, permanently circumvent it. He could even finish his augmentation.”

“You’re talking about taking lesser mages who stalled out early. Not burnouts, but people with failed or damaged investitures,” Dalbrand realized out loud, speaking more to himself than to Bernt. “And you can fix them? They would be able to take additional investitures and give us fresh magisters?”

“Some would choose to go that route, I’m sure. I certainly still want to try to form a normal augmentation myself. But I’m talking about creating true sorcerers. Ones who can grow their mana networks rather than using the traditional investment procedures. It’s a branch of magic that hasn’t been formally studied at all, and it’s a massive oversight. We have no idea what we might be missing, and I want to find out. Even what little I’ve learned so far could have far-reaching consequences.” Bernt took a breath and swallowed. “And, of course, we would be bound to serve in the defense of the country, like any of the guilds.”

The chartered guilds were the first place the king – or his nobles – reached for when the standing army alone wasn’t sufficient to manage a threat. That was exactly why Iriala feared a full mobilization against the Duergar. Any organization Bernt could create for sorcerers would inevitably be bound to the same rules, whether it was part of the Mages’ Guild or not, but it still scraped him raw to say it out loud. He’d gone to great lengths to avoid joining the military when he graduated from the Mages’ Academy. But he was already part of the Mages’ Guild. If the situation with the Duergar escalated, he would be conscripted regardless.

“It… might have some merit,” the archmage admitted slowly. He sounded interested, but it was clear that he was far less eager to spend resources on civilians than he was on the military. That, and he probably didn’t think much of sorcery beyond what it could do to fix up his soldiers. After all, modern mages generally considered sorcery to be crude and almost animalistic – not something worth pursuing for its own sake. 

“I’ve been given significant latitude with regard to your compensation, but these are commitments that I can’t make on the duke’s behalf. Please excuse me for a moment.”

He rose and left, returning a few minutes later with the Duke Renhild in tow, followed by Olias, who crowded in behind, still holding a wine glass in one hand. Bernt stood up respectfully – it wouldn’t do to sit down in front of the duke.

“You really don’t play around, do you?” Olias laughed from the door. “I thought you’d just take some gold, but this is even better! Do you know what you’re getting yourself into with this? This sort of thing is going to get attention all over the country – a lot more than you’ve gotten so far.”

Bernt didn’t, of course. He knew he didn’t. The exposure that he’d had to guild politics so far had made it very clear to him that he wasn’t prepared. But opportunities like this didn’t come along every day, and he thought he would have some real allies, at least. Archmage Iriala, most importantly. Besides, he didn’t need to establish a political power base. Not yet, anyway. He just needed a way to pursue his research.

The duke threw a glare over his shoulder at the prince and moved to sit down at Dalbrand’s desk, gesturing for Bernt to join him. He propped his elbows up on the table and leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the hardwood for a few seconds.

“You found a way to create human sorcerers – like the Mirian barbarians.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Bernt nodded. “We can’t copy what the cultivators do, exactly. We don’t have the benefit of their traditions and their knowledge, and I don’t think we’ll ever get them to share it with us. But I think we can still learn a lot about what’s possible just by learning about them. That’s what my friend Uriah was doing in your library. He’s found some intriguing possibilities, and I’ve been able to confirm some of it already.”

“From Katie’s awful novels, you mean.” Renhild said with a snort. “That young mage actually found something? What sorts of things, exactly?”

“Wel… sorcerers can enhance their bodies directly – it’s not unlike how alchemical enhancements work, but we think it might be even better. More importantly, it doesn’t ruin our mana networks, which means, in theory, that we might be able to create spellcasters that aren’t nearly as fragile as traditional mages. I’m sure you can think of some use for that. Also, as I mentioned earlier, sorcerers can cast some spells instantly. Besides that there’s the potential to rehabilitate mages who are suffering from casting disabilities due to problems with their advancement. Those could pivot into sorcery, or return to work as mages, depending on how they choose to develop their mana networks going forward. It wouldn’t increase the kingdom’s total number of casters, but it would give a massive number of weak mages a second chance. The impact could be huge.”

Duke Renhild pursed his lips and looked up at Archmage Dalbrand. “How many mages are we talking about?”

The court mage grimaced and waggled his head back and forth gently as he calculated. “About ten percent of Academy graduates stall out before their third investiture. A third of the remainder fail to properly form their augmentation, and about half of those suffer significant casting disabilities. Many still find gainful employment, so I can’t say how many volunteers there would be, but we’re talking about three hundred mages here in the Duchy. Probably up to two thousand, if we’re talking about the entire kingdom.”

“Thousands,” Duke Renhild said, a slow smile spreading on his face, “and we will draw them like moths to a flame. Aziri won’t know what hit him the next time he takes a poke at the border.”

“Ehm… not quite. We’ll need to work with the Mages’ Guild on this,” cautioned archmage Dalbrand. “They won’t appreciate us poaching so many mages. Even if they’re not individually significant, these kinds of casters fill many menial casting professions – ore processors, irrigators, road maintenance workers, underkeepers, even entertainers and provincial village mages. Some industries aren’t guild controlled, but they’ll all go to the guild demanding solutions regardless. If the guild is in control of this, they can create systems to minimize the impact – maybe by controlling who can join and from where.”

Bernt didn’t like what the archmage was implying – that people would be prevented from repairing issues with their mana networks in order to keep them in their relatively menial jobs longer. But it was a temporary problem, and one that wouldn’t matter yet anyway. He still hadn’t even made one other sorcerer yet, never mind a thousand.

Duke Renhild looked a little put out, too, but he nodded, conceding the point. “Very well. It’s more complicated than it first appears, but it has potential, right? I’ll summon archmage Barran tomorrow to discuss it.” He turned to Bernt. “Is that agreeable to you? Do you need anything else to make this endeavor a success?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. But if you’d be willing, I need any information you might have or can find about sorcery, including about the spirits of magical creatures and elementals, and especially focusing on Mirian sorcery. Also, if there are any confluences with elemental planes on Beseri soil that aren’t publicly known, I’d like to know that as well. The more the better.”

Archmage Dalbrand scoffed. “Confluences? What could you possibly want that for?”

Bernt smiled a little unsteadily. “Ah… the only method for making a full sorcerer that I’ve actually been able to confirm requires the help of a fully sapient elemental. I think we can develop other methods in the future, but it could take a long time.”

“That’s fine,” said the duke, rising from his chair. “Though you’re going to have a hell of a time getting to some of those. There’s a reason we don’t have a lot of summoners running around. Still, I agree to your terms in principle. Dalbrand, handle it!”

Bernt hurried to get up as well, just in time for Duke Renhild to clap him on the shoulder as he swept out of the room, Olias following close behind and grumbling something about mages.

Archmage Dalbrand shook his head at Bernt, both eyebrows raised.

“You’re going to have your work cut out for you. But that’s your problem. I’ll have a clerk draw up a contract for you regarding the rehabilitation of our burnouts and another naming yourself and the guild to subsidize the creation of a probationary division of sorcery within the guild, pending their approval. We can go over the language in a few days.”

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So, I don't know that I've ever written an entire chapter that was just a business meeting. I hope it works and that I didn't bore you guys. Also, throw into the comments if anything in there is unclear, it can be a bit iffy trying to get all the details to come across cleanly with stuff like this.