It took two days for the summons to arrive. I spent the night, the night I’d found out that Laxton Bay had fallen, poring over my plans and notes and preparing. Much of the next day had been wasted with recovering from that excess with sleep.

Against her wishes, I’d moved the former slave scout Murettita’s cell to the edge of my laboratory and installed a doorway so that she could be fed. She screamed and panicked for nearly four hours straight afterwards. While she wasn’t pleased with the change, the creation of an alcove for her chamberpot soothed much of her complaints. That she moved the chamberpot out of the alcove and cowered in it, didn’t bother me.

Rather, after I found Rolf and Fin tussling over something Rolf said about Fin’s mother, like most boys their age do, I assigned them extra duties to separate them. Not only were they responsible for feeding Murettita, they each had either a morning or afternoon assigned to read out loud nearby her cell. The other half of the day, they were tasked with rounding up the children from Kine’s village to teach those youths letters.

I’d rechecked my experiments and projects. The parasitic mushroom had developed nicely, though the surrounding hydra had distanced themselves from the infected ones. It wasn’t anything that a liberal use of the observing wind elemental couldn’t mitigate.

The fifth-tier elemental boulder had assumed a figure eight path that destroyed the monsters on a regular schedule, however it was now surrounded by the lesser hydra that swarmed into the path behind it to consume their fallen kin.

I’d feared for how to feed the hatched spider in my tower until Eni suggested his wolves bring back mice and squirrels. The idea of intentionally having pests inside my tower gave me shudders, but I reasoned that it would only be until my return, at which point I could remove them.

The summons arrived the morning of that second day, delivered by a kingly courier, a well-bred young man on an even better-bred horse, both wearing fine silks. The morning itself was overcast with thin clouds that dripped light rain and a small, warm breeze that came in from the south. An auspicious day, given that I had completed everything I could think of to prepare for my return to Sena City that very morning.

After I confirmed what was in the missive, an urgent demand to report to the king’s court, I bid farewell to my tower’s servants and took flight on an air elemental. I still did not enjoy flying. It wasn’t the act itself that bothered me, but rather the need to wear pants. Robes, by their very nature, were superior clothing, and pants simply too confining of a style. I resolved myself to check in the capital market while I was there to see if any ingenious tailors had recently resolved the issue.

The flight itself was peaceful. The gentle southern winds made the light sprinkling rains feel refreshingly pleasant. The sun would sometimes strike my upper back and provide a welcome warmth. It was a novel experience, as I didn’t fly often. I passed by Lark quickly and was halfway to Eiston when I saw the smoke of a burning farmstead and decided to investigate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t heed the urgent summons of the King, it was that my curiosity had gotten the better of me. As I approached, I saw what was likely regular occurrence across the kingdom. An older homestead being overrun with goblins. The farm had two wooden buildings, three small fields, and a pasture. With the exception of a small wagon trail, the lands surrounding it were all forest. I could see the bodies of dead goblins caught in hunters’ traps and their kin who stopped to eat the victims. The two buildings burned brightly, releasing thick clouds of black smoke. Between the fires huddled a family. A family that consisted of a mother and five children.

The father lay slain and was being eaten, and only a girl of maybe twelve or thirteen armed with a pitchfork kept the rest of the family from immediately meeting that same fate. I watched for only a moment as she jabbed at goblins only slightly smaller than she was, before I intervened. A series of magical darts spread from my fingertips, each striking a single goblin.

Out of the dozen or so of the monsters surrounding the family, they all fell. With a quick glance to make sure the monsters wouldn’t get up, I turned and sent another series of magic darts into the goblins in the woods. I scowled when I missed three who took off running. I was out of practice.

When I was certain that the goblins weren’t returning, I turned to the burning buildings and used my [Fire Manipulation] to end the flames nearby. Only then, did I lower myself to the ground to stand before this unfortunate family. I realized as I did that what I thought were five children, were actually seven. The mother held two babes in her arms, guarding them carefully.

I regarded the family for a moment, and considered what I should do. The farm was closer to Eiston than it was to Lark, but not by much. Of the children, the girl was the oldest, but I imagined that caring for all these children on the road by herself would put a massive strain on their mother. Yet, I knew myself well enough to know that I would likely cause more hindrance than help should I try to aid them in their travels to the nearest town.

“Are-are you here to claim my babies?” The mother hesitantly asked.

I looked at the woman in confusion. Just what kind of folk tales did people tell about wizards around these parts?

I shook my head, and surveyed the children. It looked like the attack began early this morning, as most were in their nightwear. Smudges of dirt and ash on scared faces struck at my heart, and I feared if I stayed much longer I would find myself trying to do everything in my power to lift this family back up. I closed my eyes to sigh and look away.

Helping them recover was the responsibility of their local lord, and maybe also the local priesthood. I already saved their lives. I wasn’t responsible for this family. This wasn’t my duty. I had bigger tasks on my shoulders. The king’s summons, the war with Mirtkal, the coming Pestilence. These were the tasks I needed to focus on.

Two days later, we entered Eiston. I bid Anne Farmwell and her children farewell after we had secured them lodging and reported to the local guard what happened. Giving the kids a taste of flying wasn’t enough to shake them from their loss, but I didn’t think it would be. The smiles on their faces when we first started flying, that brief moment where they could forget everything that happened was more than worth the spellwork. I even left them with a small bag of coin and a letter.

Neesa Farmwell had been valiant in her defense of her kinfolk, fighting the goblins at thirteen years old with a broken ankle. I wasn’t aware of the injury until later, and it made me glad I had flown them to the city. The letter was a commendation of her bravery and a recommendation she apprentice to the guard of any noble house when she came of age. I read it out loud to them before I sealed it, as neither mother or daughter knew their letters.

The city of Eiston was the largest city in western Sena. Its hay-colored stone buildings and grey cobblestone paths made little difference against the heavy farming culture that invaded from the surrounding hills. The kind of city that smelled of vegetables and manure.

Within moments of my departure from the lodgings for the Farmwells, I had already assumed a new illusionary guise. That of a fattened merchant I met in Sena City sixty years ago. A figure and face that wouldn’t look out of place here, but also not be one that anyone would easily recognize. With this new façade, I made my way to the local adventurer’s guildhall. One of three plans I had decided on would begin here with a simple quest.

The guildhall was two tall perpendicular buildings connected by a walkway, one of the largest structures in the city. I entered through the main door, and then took the door to the left for customers. There, a line of townsfolk of all types waited impatiently for the plump older woman at the front of line to finish.

I moved to the back of the line and was forced to listen to her irate complaints.

“Thirteen years I’ve been a customer here! And when I say I have rats in my cellar, I mean there are rats in my cellar! You think as many times as I’ve come here, Derk, that you would know I wasn’t making this up!”

“No, ma’am. I believe you, I do! But the last adventurer—” The young man behind the counter gave the woman, us, and the rest of the world a helpless look when he was cut off.

“That fella didn’t even go in the cellar. He spent the whole time drinking tea and talking with me. Which was nice, don’t get me wrong, but how’s he to know anything if he didn’t even look?” She rapped her knuckles on the counter as she spoke.

“Ma’am, records indicate that forty different adventurers have investigated—”

“Then they ain’t good adventurers! Where’s that Nullen lad? He was a good boy.”

“Ma’am, [Paladin] Nullen died six years ago in a bear attack,” the scribe said, though by his tone he’d told her before.

“Such a shame, such a shame. He was a good lad. He would’ve found these rats easy!”

“Yes, Ms. Erstall,” the administrator answered tonelessly.

“So, are you gonna send me a good adventurer this time?” The woman’s voice creaked through the room.

“I’ll post your quest again,” the defeated scribe answered.

I tapped my foot impatiently. A short man with a beard in front on me, a barkeep from his smell, sighed. The woman in front of him, who looked to be a tailor, fidgeted. The clerk in line before her, readied himself in preparation of the monumental task that would be stepping forward by one pace.

It was two long, long hours before I finally made it to the counter. I had four scrolls waiting in my hands, ready for the task.

“How can I help you, sir?” The scribe droned, still suffering from his earlier defeat.

“Four quests, three message quests and one to be posted here.”

“Name?” he asked as he scribbled not even looked up.

“You don’t know me? I am the esteemed [Merchant] Mirkhome, the honest,” I declared, assuming the demeanor of the man as I remembered him, though I changed the name. I didn’t recall any house by that name, and adding the word ‘Mirk’ should redirect anyone to a clear enemy of the kingdom. Even if they saw through it, there would be no way to discover I was responsible.

The scribe graced me with a single glance before scribbling down Mirkhome, “And the quests?”

“These three scrolls need delivered to the adventurers’ guildhalls in Birktoni, Freetoni, and Sena City,” I answered as he continued writing.

“And the fourth quest?”

“To be posted here, this scroll contains the details. The others are the same quest, can I pay here?” I answered, lifting one of the scrolls.

The scribe paused in his writing to read over the details, “Find the source of Asrid Flowers? Tier three? Is that correct?”

I nodded as arrogantly as I could, “Yes! I want to cut out the middleman, he keeps raising the prices. ‘For war’ he says, but I don’t believe him.”

The scribe jotted down more information, and then spoke, “That’ll be four gold pieces and six silver.”

I feigned outrage, “What kind of rate is that?! That’s preposterous! I demand…”

The scribe had pointed at a sign above his head when he began that read ‘Merchant’s Guild members get a ten percent discount. No negotiating.’ He didn’t even look up from the tome he was writing in when he did it.

“I see,” I answered and then laid the coins down on the counter. A few more details and a signature and I departed.