Universe One; The Game of Lives
By Thomas Baskerville
Chapter 15; The Magician
The grand, almost church-like in nature architecture of the Magical School of Oak was something that always caught Amy’s eye. The tall corridor ceilings lined with stone archways. Marble floor tiles and perfectly cut stonework walls. Quality that subtly whispered the words ‘expensive’ and ‘powerful’ into the ears of any who lay eyes upon such structures. That was all without taking into account the clear shimmer of magic that drenched every corner, every nook and cranny. The flow of magic throughout the building itself gave a different, but equally effective sense of power to those that could sense such things. Amy was one such person. Her brown novice mage robes marked her as a student of magic. Ahead of her, an older mage continued to lead her down the many twisting corridors of the school. Dressed in a royal green magical robe lined with a modest set of golden lace and the occasional jewel, Headmaster Rory was a tall Elf with a timid aura that somehow commanded respect from the students and staff alike. He was fairly young for his position, but old, nonetheless. His towering height made Amy’s smaller figure far more noticeable. Amy was also an Elf, but she’d been born without the added benefit of Elven height. A common occurrence from a child born from an Elf and Human parents. Some at times called such people Half-Elves, but this was mostly unrecognised as an official race and more often than not used as a slight or insult. Her rather noticeable bloodred hair certainly didn’t help matters. Amongst her own kind she stuck out like a sore thumb, but she was still thin and had a set of pointed ears, making her distinctly not Human.
The presence of light caught Amy’s attention, drawing her eyes away from the majestic architecture of the corridor, towards a stained-glass window. The image of a man in fiery red mage robes and wielding a fireball wasn’t by any means subtle. Grandmaster Morgan. Also known as Morgan the Master Fire Magician. The current Grandmaster and top dog of all the mages within the Byw Forest. Mages of such acclaim were often depicted in such manor; their image forever pressed into the pages of magical history.
“Will this take long headmaster?” Amy quietly asked as they turned one final corner to now come to a dead end marked by a door labelled ‘Headmaster’. Rory’s office, “Lessons are about to resume.” She pointed out to the man as they came to a stop outside his door. He moved to the side and gestured for her to open the door, which caught her a little off guard.
“He’s asked to see you alone.” He vaguely clarified. Amy double blinked. She’d assumed the headmaster had wanted a quick chat about something, her performance in classes perhaps, but something was terribly off. The man seemed even more timid than his usual self. He was spooked, nervous. Not many things made such a man visibly uncomfortable. Just who had asked to see someone as insignificant as her? She wrapped her hand around the handle of the door but was interrupted by Rory’s soft mage hand landing gently on her shoulder, “Etiquette on top form, answer clearly and entertain his every request.” He seemed to almost beg of her, “Keep your head, and take care.” He advised, before nodding to the door. She gave a thankful nod, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open.
“Mrs Thomson, I presume?” A voice instantly spoke as a pair of sharp eyes fell upon Amy just as quickly. Stood behind Rory’s desk was the same man she’d just seen on the stained-glass window. Grandmaster Morgan himself in the flesh. Amy’s eyes widened with panic. What did a man like him want with her? She quickly stood straight and proper. Rory had been right to warn her.
“Miss.” Amy politely corrected as she sheepishly stepped into the room. The door slowly shut behind her, but with no space for another person between her and the door. Rory hadn’t followed her inside. Being without his timid but calm aura made her feel almost naked under the gaze of Morgan’s terrifyingly precise eyes.
“Of course.” He responded with a stomach-churning smile, “I imagine that abnormal hight of yours doesn’t help finding a husband.” He remarked. Amy held her tongue, nearly biting it just to keep her trap shut. Mouthing off at this man wasn’t something she’d get away with, “But that is not why I wished to meet with you.” He clarified, “I’m curious about your magical capabilities.” Amy quietly swallowed, “Would you cast Orb of Light for me?”
“Certainly Grandmaster.” She obediently nodded. She raised her left hand and opened her palm, “Orb of Light.” She chanted. Within her palm, a small and rather unimpressive orb began to weakly shine. The spell so faint its light was easily overwhelmed by the candlelight of the office. Morgan rather expectedly winced at such a display. Exactly why had he been interested in her of all people?
“I see.” He quietly muttered as he took a step closer. His eyes began to sharply examine the orb within her grasp, and after a small pause, a teethy grin appeared on his face, “Miss Thomson. Do you truly believe a man such as myself cannot tell when a mage is purposefully suppressing her power?” He accused. Amy again quietly swallowed. He’d caught her red handed.
“I…” She stuttered.
“I understand the desire to not want to draw attention to your true might, but I must ask you to show me your true magical power.” He sternly spoke down to her, “Again Miss Thomson.” He ordered. She gave a shy nod.
“Orb of Light.” She chanted. The orb within her grasp grew in size and intensity. It took up her whole palm now and outshined the candlelight completely. Surely, he’d be impressed by that. No. He gave a small sigh of disappointment.
“I will give you one more chance Miss Thomson.” He spoke as he took one step closer to her, towering over her with his Elven height and glaring a furious glare, “Again!” He demanded.
“Orb of Light.” She chanted in panic. Anything to keep him from obliterating her where she stood. The orb grew once more. It grew beyond the width of her palm and continued as Amy let out a small drop of what was truly deep within her. Morgan’s eyes lit up with amazement as the orb continued to grow bigger and bigger. Finally, it stabilized after taking up the entire centre of the room. Now the height of Amy herself, the orb beamed light so intense Morgan could feel the heat even through his expensive fire-resistant red mage robes.
“Still holding back.” He muttered, “But I have seen enough to satisfy me.” He added. Amy snapped her palm shut and abruptly shut off the flow of her own magic, “I’d heard tale of a student who’s yet to figure out their magical aspect despite four years of study.” He then revealed, “It is clear to me now that you possess the Light Aspect of Elven Magic.”
“I… I thought all mages could cast Light Magic. How could I be born specialised in such a thing?” She quickly questioned.
“Magic is a far more complex beast than you’re lessons here let on.” Morgan vaguely answered. Such an answer was common amongst the higher levels of mage, an answer they gave when they didn’t want to spill the secrets of their own research, “I would like for you to accompany me back to my school in Branch.” He offered to her, “A guaranteed place in the finest school of magic, The Magical School of Branch.”
“I…” Amy stuttered again. He’d been quick with the offer. His eyes filled with hunger and cunning in equal measures. He wanted her power for something, “My apologies Grandmaster, but I have deep family ties in this area. I cannot simply up and leave for the capital.” She politely refused. Morgan stood eerily still for a few seconds, contemplating her answer.
“Very well.” He then calmly responded, “I’ll leave the offer open should you change your mind.” He added as he gestured to the door. An invitation to leave. One Amy gladly took. She quickly exited and politely shut the door behind her. The second the door was closed; her shoulders broke free of what felt like puppet strings keeping them upright. She gave a deep sigh and pressed her forehead against a nearby wall. She’d fucked up. She didn’t know how, but a mage of note had finally seen through her pretend narrative of being a relatively incompetent mage. Her father wasn’t going to be pleased with this, but she’d surprisingly walked away unscathed. She hadn’t expected Morgan’s calm and understanding of her refusal. She’d expected him to whittle her down excuse by excuse until he got a yes out of her.
Footsteps in the distance quickly caught her off guard. She straightened herself up and began to walk away from the headmaster’s office. A teacher dressed in the signature purple magical robe that came with the position, turned the corner and quickly passed her by without comment. An odd thing considering she was a student out and about during lessons. She then slowly stopped in her tracks as she recalled the face of the teacher who’d just passed her. Not one she recognised. Before she could even turn to question the individual, a painful but precise sharp thud on the back of her head knocked her out.
***
Merlin calmly walked out of the tree line of the deep forest and into a small clearing beneath the stary black sky. The moon fully covered in darkness. There was no light to speak of, until a bright flash announced his expected arrival. Staff the Wise stood before the old mage as plain as day.
“Not every day you summon me Staff.” He muttered, “Since when does an admin need a favour from an old man like myself?” Staff straightened himself out and turned his gaze to the nearby trunk of the towering Great Tree. The clearing they were both stood in was just outside the city limits of Branch itself. It’s wide, tall branches easy to pick out as individual pathways now instead of a conglomerate of wood and leaf.
“I need you to deliver a message.” Staff answered in a rather ominous tone of voice. Merlin’s face lit up into a smug grin.
“And what exactly does the fair king Ailbhe need to hear?”
***
Amy’s eyes shot open to the throbbing pain on the back of her head. She was immediately caught off guard by the consistent rocking of a carriage being pulled at full galop. Her eyes immediately found Morgan ahead of her. Sat on the opposite side of the carriage. The bastard had kidnapped her.
“The hell is this?” She snapped at the man, who calmly opened his eyes from the light rest he was clearly taking.
“Progress Miss Thomson.” He answered, “Your unique affinity shall forge a path to unlocking new and unexplored magic. You’re lucky to be a part of such a thing.” Amy immediately lunged forwards to attack the man but found herself tied to her seat in metal shackles littered with active magical circles. He’d been more than prepared to do this from the start. Of course, a man like him wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Let me go!” She screamed, but her words seemed to fall upon deaf ears.
“Won’t be long until we reach Branch. I’d get comfortable in those chains Miss Thomson. I’m not foolish enough to underestimate magic as unpredictable as your-” But his words were quickly cut short as the speed of the carriage suddenly changed dramatically. Amy was thrown backwards against the wall of the carriage behind her as the carriage was brought to an abrupt stop.
“Trouble ahead sir.” A voice spoke from above Amy’s head, where a slit had opened to reveal the carriage driver. Morgan’s eyes narrowed with distaste.
“What fool openly attacks the marked carriage of the Grandmaster himself.” He cursed under his own breath. He turned to the carriage door and confidently threw it open.
Morgan stepped out into the pitch-black night of the forest road. Trees and nothing more caught his gaze as he scanned his surroundings. Behind his cart, a second cart swung its door open. A large number of wealthy looking mages quickly spilled out to join him on the road. Morgan then turned his gaze forwards, further up the road.
A single man stood ahead of them. A couple of metres from the well-groomed stags towing Morgan’s carriage. A hooded figure clearly wanting to stop their progress. Bandits were common but even they knew not to test a mage. Especially one of his high-status, “State your business!” Morgan demanded of the hooded man as the collection of highly capable mages began to stand at his either side and behind him. Organised into rank and capability. Whoever this poor fool was, he’d chosen death.
“The girl.” The hooded figure demanded. The air remained silent as Morgan glanced to his open carriage. He nodded to one of his mages, who shut the door for him.
“Last chance to leave before things get messy.” Morgan threatened, “It would certainly be a shame to burn down so many trees over such a small matter.” He added as his eyes narrowed at the man. He was Elven hight as far as he could tell, but his cloak was common night black. No mage robes in sight, yet he could sense the presence of magic within the air, different to his goons and his own power as well. This man was a mage, but what level and type he was uncertain.
Battles between mages were messy business indeed. Magic used to kill and harm was terrifying on a level far beyond bows and swords. The power to cleanse battlefields, the power to level cities. Such things were not used lightly. A mage’s go-to was politics and words, but Morgan couldn’t exactly depend on such elegant and pragmatic things. This man knew about the girl in his possession. He couldn’t allow such an individual to leave alive.
“The girl.” The hooded figure demanded again, “Or death.” He added. Morgan broke out a small grin. It wasn’t often he got the chance to wield his power so brazenly, but first he needed insight.
“Kill him.” He ordered his surrounding mages. They all nodded and walked forwards a few paces before coming to a stop. As they each began to channel the flow of magic, the air shifted and moved with discomfort. A lot of magic was about to be unleashed, and it certainly wasn’t going to be happy about it. Magical power flowed and oozed throughout their surroundings as the many mages focused such power within themselves, before aiming it towards the hooded figure with malice intent. Each of them opened their mouths, ready to chant the many different spells.
“Disturbance.” A single voice boomed through the air. A voice not belonging to any of the mages. Morgan’s eyes widened with surprise as he recognised the chant immediately. The focused flow of magic throughout the many mages suddenly turned chaotic. Uncontrolled magic surged through the air, causing the many spells to not only cancel, but explode as the lids of their bottled-up power burst free, “Water Wall.” The voice boomed. Suddenly the chaotic discharge of magic found order. A wall of liquid water formed right on the mages, “Freeze.” The voice boomed. The water heeded its command. It froze with the mages still within, trapping them in ice before they’d even had a chance to put up a fight.
Morgan hesitantly grinded his teeth. Counter Magic was a rare aspect to be able to wield. Not only did it require so much knowledge of magic in general, but the skill required to perfect the timing and implementation of such a thing was just as demanding in its own right. Disturbance. A third level spell that disrupted the flow of magic itself. A terrifyingly effective means of causing havoc to a mage mid spell cast. Then there was the addition of Ice Magic. An offensive spell aspect that dealt more with adaptability than Fire Magic’s large area of effect or Lightning Magic’s raw damage and range. A troublesome and unpredictable opponent for sure. A noise quickly caught Morgan’s attention. He turned to find Amy had knocked the door to the carriage open in an attempt to break free of her shackles. He shot her a slight smirk. Respect for her determination if anything.
“Watch well Miss Thomson. Few get to witness the Grandmaster display his might.” He instructed her. Amy stopped her struggling and yanking of her chains that had gotten her nowhere thus far and turned to witness Morgan as he aimed his hand towards the hooded figure who was out of her line of sight, “Fireball.” He chanted as magic quickly focused at his feet, only to immediately shoot through his body, down his arm, and out into the air. The speed, the precision of the magical flow. Amy double blinked at such a display. The man certainly wasn’t called Grandmaster for nothing.
The fireball shot through the air only to find an awaiting magical barrier to smack into. Morgan’s smirk lit up into a full grin. Counter Magic, Ice Magic, and Barrier Magic. His three aspects revealed. Counter Magic was effective against spells that had a long cast time, but spells like Fireball were so fast the timing required was almost impossible. Of the three aspects, Counter Magic was certainly going to be the most troublesome, but Barrier Magic was perhaps the next big thorn presenting itself. While not as good at shutting down magical attacks compared to Counter Magic, Barrier Magic was a sound defensive tool against all threats.
“Ice Shard.” The figure chanted. Morgan quickly firmed up his stance as a shard of ice tore through the air towards him. A flick of his own wrist, and the shard found itself planted within Morgan’s own magical barrier. He’d gone straight for the level three barrier, which required extra time and cost more mana, but Morgan’s casting speed was second to none in this world, and his pool of mana was vast, “Shatter.” Mogan’s eyes widened with shock. The embedded ice shard shattered, flinging razor sharp fragments of ice in all directions. Morgan quickly conjured a second magical barrier. A weaker level one. Fast and cheap. The shards bounced off his shield, unable to cause any damage.
Shatter was an Expert Level spell. Very few mages within this world knew how to cast Expert and Master Level magic. Morgan himself could name them all. This was no mere thief. He was facing a fully capable mage of renown. It was time to end this now before things got wildly out of hand. Morgan focused the surrounding magic within the surrounding air. The flow of wind subtly changed as the air responded in kind. Magic flowed through the man from his skin and focused itself deep within his stomach.
“Lightning Bolt!” Morgan chanted as he unleashed the bottled-up magic, directing it to his arm at lightning speed. A blinding display of power echoed through the air as a deafening bolt of lightning slammed against the protective magical barrier conjured by the hooded figure. The barrier shattered like glass as the bolt dispersed, “Lightning Bolt!” Morgan chanted again, this time the flow of magic within his body moved even quicker. No one cast magic as fast and as precise as he did. No set of defences was fast enough to outpace his onslaught. A second bolt of lightning left his hands, yet barely as it did so…
“Stone Hands.” The figure chanted. Morgan’s eyes dilated as he watched his spell slam into a rock hand that tanked the electrical discharge with nothing but a light scorch to show for it. The hands continued to bare down upon his position, looking to ensnare and crush him. An Earth Magic spell didn’t fall into one of his opponents three aspects, and he’d cast it just as fast as Morgan. No shield was going to stop the crushing determination of those hands. Morgan gritted his teeth.
“Fire Pillar!” Morgan exclaimed as he focused his magic through his feet, into the ground. He’d lose the girl, but right now he was fighting for his life. Holding back wasn’t something he could afford. A one hundred metre radius around him suddenly surged with magic. Fire exploded from the ground into a gigantic pillar that consumed all within. Right at its heart, a one metre radius circle remained untouched around Morgan’s feet.
The dust settled quickly. The trees lining the now one hundred metre radius circle of scorched earth remained ablaze from the heat. Morgan had turned a whole chunk of forest into a wasteland in the blink of an eye.
“Rain.” The figure’s voice boomed through the thinning smoke. The sky turned from clear to cloudy, and heavy rainfall quickly began to put out the many fires and cool the scorched ground. Morgan glared down the untouched cloaked figure. They’d somehow survived. His ears pricked at the sound of movement. He turned to see the melted remains of his carriage. The charred carcases of the stags, the driver of his carriage who’d also been caught in the crossfire, and Amy who stood perfectly untouched. Still shackled, but the ends of her chains ended in red hot metal. She too had survived, although the look on her face made it clear it was not her own doing. Someone had protected her as well. Morgan slowly grinded his teeth together as his expensive mage robes began to slowly soak in the rain. The frozen collection of mages seemed to remain relatively unharmed. The thick ice surrounding them had inadvertently saved their lives, but Morgan’s heat hadn’t been enough to free them.
“You know the secret.” Morgan quietly muttered as he turned to address the hooded figure again, “You know how to really use magic.” He added, “Barely a handful of mages know such a thing.” He muttered to himself, “Who the hell are you!” He exclaimed. The hooded figure gave him no response. He watched as they raised a hand towards Morgan.
“Thunder Bolt.” They chanted. The air between them rippled and contorted. Morgan barely conjured a barrier in time. His protective shield shattered as a powerful blast of thunder blew him back a few strides before he regained his balance. That solidified it. Very few mages in the world knew the truth, that you didn’t need to be born with an aspect to cast it. Enough time and effort, and you could learn any standard magic no matter what aspect you were born with. This person had used far more than three aspects of magic against him and even used an Expert Level spell. The number of mages that knew as he did, knew the truth, could be counted on a single hand.
“Tell me that isn’t you, Merlin the Wise.” Morgan guessed. The figure remained unchanged by the mention of such a name. Not Merlin himself then, but someone who held just as much knowledge. An apprentice of his perhaps. Apprentice or not, as long as it wasn’t Merlin the Wise himself, Morgan knew he was the better mage, “Fine, you forced my hand.” He sighed as he raised his hand and aimed it towards the figure, “Fire Beam!”
“Water Jet.” The figure immediately responded. As a beam of concentrated fire exploded from Morgan’s hand, a concentrated jet of water erupted from the hand of the figure. The two spells clashed midair and exploded in a mixture of heat and steam. Morgan cursed before taking in a deep breath of air. Casting a Master Level spell wasn’t an easy feat even for the best. The figure had responded with their own Master Level spell. Deep down, Morgan desperately wished to be able to use Staff’s favourite go to spell. Six rings of charge and he’d be able to wipe this bastard off the face of the map, but such a long charge up was almost inviting Counter Magic to be used against him. No, he’d have to get creative with this one.
“Fire Wall!” Morgan exclaimed. A wall of fire erupted from the ground ahead of him, but fell short of reaching the figure, “Elemental Bolt; Fire.” He chanted. The flames from his previous spell dispersed and focused into several thousand sharp bolts of condensed fire. The bolts aimed towards the hooded figure and shot towards them at the flick of Morgan’s wrist.
“Spatial Warp.” The hooded figure chanted. Morgan’s ears pricked. A spell he didn’t recognise. Suddenly the hooded figure was directly in front of him. The many bolts of fire flew off hitting several different trees before being quickly extinguished by the now light rain still covering the battle ground. The figure tapped his finger against Morgan’s chest. A magical circle sparked to life upon his own body. The flow of magic throughout every part of Morgan’s body suddenly stopped. Locked off, blocked from any source and forbidden to move. Morgan fell to his knees, powerless.
“Who are you?” He muttered, his eyes now distant, drowned in disbelief that he’d somehow lost a contest of magic. The hooded figure slowly removed his hood, causing Morgan’s eyes to focus, fuelled purely now by genuine curiosity. The man before him was an Elf. Dark black hair, eyes as sharp and cunning as his own. Such eyes pierced deep into him as the man bent down to address him.
“My name is Sam Thomson.” He calmly revealed. Morgan’s mind quickly began to race as he recalled name upon name. No such a name had passed through his ears before. Nor did he recognise the man one bit. How did he not know of a mage as powerful as this? Such a thing was impossible. He kept close watch on every student that showed promise within any of the magical schools, as had the previous Grandmasters. No one of note slipped past his gaze. It took a few seconds before his thoughts clicked. Thomson. Morgan shot a look towards Amy, who was now stood beside the man. She raised her shackled wrists. A spark of magic, and the metal shattered, freeing her, “Consider this your only warning, Morgan the Greedy.” He spat, “Touch members of my bloodline again, and I’ll erase yours forever.” He viciously threatened. Sam straightened himself out, turned away from the man, and raised his hand one last time, “Portal.” He chanted.
Morgan watched in terror as, after a few moments of magic focused with far more skill than his own, a purple portal tore open where he’d aimed his hand, “Time to leave, daughter.” He sternly ordered her. Amy sheepishly bowed her head.
“Yes father.” She quietly muttered before obeying his instructions. He too walked through the magical gateway a second afterwards. The portal snapped such, leaving Morgan alone in the rain.
***
High up in the massive branches of The Great Tree itself, a figure moved through the darkness of the night. Subtly strolling past unaware guards by tactfully timing their every advance around their patrols. As the figure made their way onto the throne branch, two guards standing ready beside the empty throne itself quickly spotted the shady figure. One drew his weapon as they watched the figure casually walk up the branch towards them. There was no cover to hide, and the intruder was fully aware of that. The first guard nodded to the second, who then vanished behind a hidden staircase behind the throne itself. The first guard then began to advance towards the figure. His heavy-duty armour and expertly crafted short sword were likely no match for someone who’d made it this far up the tree without a single alarm, but his job was to buy time for the king.
Merlin eyed the advancing guard with distaste. The man disliked violence, but he wasn’t exactly about to turn down a favour from a God. The guard charged forwards. Merlin lifted a single hand and continued his pace passed him as the guard seemed to suddenly hold completely still. Frozen, but without any cold or ice. As if something unseen was instead holding him perfectly in place. Merlin continued his stroll up until he stood before the empty wooden throne of the Byw Forest. After a few quiet seconds, Ailbhe appeared from the same secret staircase the guard had used earlier. Dressed in a thin night gown instead of his usual royal robes, the man distastefully squinted at Merlin as a whole squad of guards quickly emerged from the staircase to surround their king.
“A bit late for the dramatics Merlin.” Ailbhe muttered as he pushed forwards towards the mage without concern. He knew well the great Merlin the Wise wasn’t about to dethrone a king. He turned and impatiently sat down upon his throne while his guards quickly took the initiative and surrounded the old mage. Merlin calmly adjusted his signature red pointed hat that matched his red mage robes, before presenting the king with a small, sly grin.
“I’m afraid not tonight fair king.” He rather ominously spoke. Merlin’s eyes shifted as he noticed his mere tone of voice had prompted the surrounding guards to place their hands on their weapons, “I come baring an urgent message from a patron of mine. One I implore you to hear despite the late hour.” He calmly clarified. The guards remained twitchy but seemed to relax just a little.
“It is rare our paths cross Merlin. I thought you were deathly allergic to politics.” Ailbhe commented as he began to consider the request of the rather famous mage before him. The most famous mage in fact. Other than Staff himself, Merlin was the sole mage within the Gameworld who’d earnt the title of ‘the Wise’. A title above all others within the magical world, “You may leave us.” The king then ordered his guards. They all seemed to turn to him in unison, ready to protest, “If this man wanted me dead, no one short of Staff the Wise himself would be able to change the outcome.” He explained, “Leave, now.” He ordered. The guards obeyed. One by one they vanished down the secret staircase behind the throne, leaving Merlin and Ailbhe alone, “Weave your words magician.”
“I bare the unfortunate news that one of your lap dogs has inadvertently insulted a mage I hold in high regard.” Merlin revealed.
“Which lap dog are you referring too?”
“Given it is me delivering such a message, I think you know fully well, fair king.” Merlin tactfully answered.
“What has Morgan gotten himself into.” Ailbhe sighed as he rested his head against the flat of his knuckle.
“He has attempted to kidnap the daughter of Sam Thomson, of the Thomson bloodline.” Merlin answered. Ailbhe quietly considered the name.
“Such a name does not ring a bell.”
“I expect not. The man is more recluse than myself.” Merlin explained, “And at times just as capable.” He added with a serious glare, “You would be wise to avoid offending such a man, for he does not share my reserve for conflict and decisive action.”
“I find it hard to feel threatened by a man I’ve never heard of.” Ailbhe sighed, “But if he wishes for his daughter to be returned, I would be happy to arrange it as a favour to you.” He offered. Merlin again presented the king with a slight smirk. Right on que, a giant pillar of fire exploded far off, somewhere beyond the city limits. Ailbhe stood up and turned his eyes to investigate, “Morgan’s Fire Magic.” He muttered, recognizing Morgan’s favourite spell.
“You misunderstand, fair king.” Merlin spoke up, “Mr Thomson alone has likely already made Morgan pay for his mistakes. I am not here to beg for his daughters return; I am here to inform you he is fully aware who’s orders Morgan is following.” He revealed. Ailbhe’s eyes narrowed. He turned to the old mage with accusatory eyes.
“What exactly does someone like you know about Morgan’s orders?” He pressed.
“Both myself and Mr Thomson have noticed the many unreported disappearances of novice mages showing promise in the practice of Light Magic.” Merlin blatantly answered, “And now your dog has pulled the Thomson bloodline into such a plot, Sam Thomson officially denounces such actions, and those who ordered them.”
“You dare state a mage of no renown denounces his own king!” Ailbhe snapped at the man. Merlin simply smiled in response.
“I’m sure you are aware I am not the first Merlin of this world, nor shall I be the last. The renowned position passes from master to apprentice. Sam Thomson is not the first Sam Thomson either, but unlike me, his name and power pass through time down his bloodline. Knowledge and power as ancient as my own magical capabilities.” Merlin revealed. The old mage took a single step forward bringing him nose to nose with the king himself, “I will warn you one final time, fair king. Do not further provoke Sam the Wise.”