Wealsun 27, CY 593
52: Even in Wonderville, sometimes true love wins initiative.
Heydricus, Dabus and Prisantha take their leisure amongst the men of Halrond’s army, secreted deep within the Fellreev forest.
“Of course I thought of Jespo first,” Heydricus says. “But Thrommel says he’s quit the fight.”
“Oh for the love of . . .” Prisantha is exasperated.
Heydricus commiserates. “What does he think he’s about, leaving the men with that half-wit?” He looks at Dabus. “I didn’t just say that.”
The next day, and the day after that, Prisantha makes seven trips in total to the forges in the Fellreev forest, delivering the entirety of the Iuzian stockpiled ore, one portable hole at a time. Heydricus insists that he make the journey back to Cur’ruth with the same followers that he started out with, and has Prisantha teleport him to his Captain’s side.
Dabus returns to Cur’ruth and begins studying a Bereian religious tract discussing the virtues of vegetarianism.
-----
Richfest in the mines of Cur’ruth is a festive time. It is the Flan custom to hold the most elaborate meal of the three-day holiday in the morning, and the Liberators have adopted the custom for their own. Fresh milk, breads and meats are teleported from Furyondy, and supplemented by the local spicy bean dishes and celestial-radiance grown fungus.
“It’s all about money,” Heydricus says with his mouth full. “Equipping armies makes for poor adventurers, I think. What I need to do is more fund raising.”
Prisantha scowls at this suggestion. “Perhaps you could do with a little supervision on your fund raising trips. You haven’t been very successful.”
“Fine by me,” Heydricus retorts.
Dabus looks up from his stewed beets and wheat-germ porridge. “You don’t mind if someone watches while you raise your funds? I’d like to watch.”
“No problem,” Heydricus says magnanimously. “You could learn something.”
Prisantha rolls her eyes.
Heydricus stands and places a foot upon his chair, striking a heroic pose. “Tell me, what do you think?” he asks. “Profile,” he turns to face his companions. “Or portrait?” After a long pause, he explains, “for our coinage.”
“Ah,” Dabus says sagely. “The profile. It is traditional.”
“And there should be a monument on the other side,” Prisantha suggests. “Perhaps something from the mines. The statues at the gate would serve.”
“Very well,” Heydricus says. “But most importantly, gold or platinum?”
“Gold,” Dabus advises. “It shows a ruler’s humility to leave the most valuable coin for some symbol of the realm. Perhaps some animal that the Tenha revere—a wolf, or a hawk.”
“A hawk would be perfect,” Heydricus says. “We’ll use Barney.”
“Barney?” Prisantha asks
“My familiar,” Heydricus replies.
“You finally named your familiar?” she says.
“No, he told me his name. Barnibus. He’s been more talkative of late,” he says.
“Gold Kings and platinum Hawks,” Dabus says. “Perhaps the celestial emotes for the silver, and a Tenh family for the copper.”
“Hawks, Kings, Lights and Commons,” Heydricus muses. “I like it.”
That settled, the Liberators spend the rest of the morning working on the List.
-----
Prisantha sits quietly in her study, studying from notes in her spellbook, and after several hours’ quiet meditation, finishes the spell demand. Thinking that she needs to test it, she summons Heydricus to witness, then completes the final words of the spell and sends a suggestion to Jespo Crim: “You must return to Cur’ruth immediately, and explain your absence to Prisantha.”
-----
Willip’s Community Wizard’s College is unfinished, more a college in name than practice, but enough of the building is supplied to house a dozen hopeful apprentices, all of whom at this moment are gathered around Jespo Crim in the mess-hall. Jespo sits with his feet on a table, sipping wine from a cracked cup and reminiscing about his adventures in the Temple of Elemental Evil. For the first time in his life, every ear is his to bend, and rapt attention is his due.
“So there I was,” he says, “Alone in front of the shelf, covered head to toe with green slime, my magic and spellbooks destroyed before my eyes.” The apprentices lean in, horrified expressions on every face. “You can imagine my terror. I cried out to my familiar . . .”
Fräs looks up from her saucer of cream, and meows.
“That’s right,” Jespo says. “I did say something about ‘it should have been you Fräs.’ Of course, I was referring to my first familiar, a diabolical cat possessed of a uniquely foul temperament. I realized at that moment that I was in the worst possible of positions. So naturally, I . . .” Jespo eyes glaze for a moment, then he sets down his cup and stands up. “I must go to Cur’ruth and explain my absence. Fräs, to me.” Jespo invokes a teleport spell and appears in front of Heydricus and Prisantha, thousands of miles from his new position as Senior Fellow In Conjurations.
Jespo gives a short bow to Prisantha and says, “I left Thrommel’s service over irreconcilable differences. I have accepted a senior position at the Willip’s Wizard’s Communtiy College.” Jespo puts on his best stubborn face, but cannot hide his confusion. “Why did I say that?” he wonders to himself.
Prisantha sighs. “Thrommel needs you, Jespo.”
“No,” Jespo says haughtily. “Prince Thrommel needs a good head wound. I need my gold back.”
Heydricus frowns at Jespo. “So you’ve given up the life? You’re settling down are you? No more high adventures?”
“Well,” Jespo hedges. “Technically, my position won’t begin until some time next year. They are only able to open one college at a time, after all, and have selected Invocations, Enchantments and Abjurations as their first-tier curriculum, with Transmutation, Divination, Illusion and Necromancy as the second.”
“So you’re available to adventure?”
Jespo’s eyes light up. “Well,” he hedges craftily.
“We need you Crim,” Heydricus places a hand on his shoulder.
Jespo is nearly overcome with joy. “Did you hear that Fräs—they need me!” Jespo whispers. Fräs purrs in reply.
“Hell, we thought you were joined at the hip with Thrommel,” Heydricus says. “Otherwise, we would have brought you along on all our adventures.”
“Well, I was,” Jespo snarls. “And what did that ever get me? I can’t even show my face in Chendl I am despised so soundly, the better part of my adventuring treasure is on that cretin’s back, and let’s be frank. I don’t have a chance in Hades of retaining my position once he takes his throne.”
“I don’t know about that, Jespo. Thrommel is a loyal man.”
“Loyal to you, Heydricus,” Prisantha says.
“The Four cannot stand me,” Jespo sniffs. “And only a fool of a king would choose one wizard over four archmagi, no matter how loyal that king might be. Thrommel would be forced to put me aside.”
Heydricus nods. “Well, you can live here. We’re working on a List.”
“I’m not staying near that beastly accountant of yours, if that’s what you have in mind. I was thinking I should like a room in the dungeons, closer to the celestial emotes. Besides, you know how delicate my complexion is. The sun disagrees with me.”
“Yeah, Mialec is in your room anyway,” Prisantha says.
“Whom?”
“My assistant.” Heydricus looks pained. “She’s great.”
Jespo smiles at his friends. “I shall need to get my things straightaway, and . . . well, I wish to bring a friend along as well.”
Fräs hisses.
Jespo blushes, and adds sheepishly, “a lover, actually.”
“What?” Heydricus says. Prisantha claps her hands.
“Oh, she’s wonderful, Heydricus.” Jespo’s eyes plead with his friends not to Mock him. “Pris, I can’t wait until you meet her. She is noble and kind, charitable toward the poor and helpful to the weak.”
Heydricus seems shocked. “You have a lover?”
“Well, is that so surprising, after all?” Jespo sniffs. “Fräs says I have a loveable personality.”
“I suppose . . .”
“Heydricus, I should tell you, I am thinking about asking her to marry me.”
“Marry you?”
“Well, we do wish to . . . follow our relationship to its logical conclusion, seeing as how it is between a man and woman, you know, and Fräs says that we should be man and wife first, lest I dishonor her.”
“You mean, you haven’t . . . ?”
“No.” Jespo looks at his shoes. “I actually . . . well, I have always been studious after all.”
“You mean you’ve never?”
“Well, neither of us has. But once we’re married . . . except, I fear I know little of the art of love.”
“Hell, Jespo, I’ll give you a few pointers! I’m an old hand.”
Prisantha scowls. “I’ll say.”
Jespo looks shocked. “So you two finally . . .”
Prisantha blushes.
Heydricus seems not to notice. “Marriage, sure. I think marriage is a fine institution! When are you going to ask?”
“Well, I don’t know . . .”
“There’s no time like the present, Jespo. We adventurers never know what the next dungeon may bring!”
“You’re right!” Jespo says. I shall ask her tomorrow, first thing!”
Fräs purrs.
-----
Two teleport spells later, Jespo returns with a trunk full of clothes and books, and a large Oerdian woman. She is broad of shoulder and thick of limb, with sandy, unkempt hair framing her wide, round face. Her hazel eyes are pretty enough, but they are set over an unusually large mouth filled with unusually long teeth.
“Regda, these are my oldest living companions who aren’t undead,” Jespo says. “May I present Heydricus Tritherionson, Holy Liberator of Tritherion, and Prisantha, the Enchantress of Verbobonc.”
Regda blushes and extends a large, calloused hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a real pleasure. Jespie says such nice things.” Her voice is mellow and sultry; velvet, whiskey and smoke.
Pleasantries are exchanged, and after formalities are attended, Jespo takes Regda from Prisantha’s room to show her the rest of the mines.
“She seems very sweet, and did you see the way Fräs took to her?” Prisantha says.
“Well, she’s not the sharpest stake in the punji pit,” Heydricus says. But she’s damn strong, and those are fighter’s hands, or I’m no judge at all.”
“I think she’s pretty,” Prisantha says.
Heydricus opens his mouth to reply, then thinks better of it, and smiles instead. “I’ll keep my eye on Crim. If he’s as good at love as he is at invocations (and I have no doubt of it), he’s going to need some help.”
