I spent the rest of the day on the top of my tower, though I had to use ice magic around midafternoon to combat the heat and sun. Ram’s wife, Lutha, didn’t arrive that day, which turned out to be a good thing. The realization that she was coming did a lot to put my emotions in perspective. Here I was, angry with the loss of a potential partner, and she’d lost her husband. A dwarf who she expected to live the rest of her days alongside.

To say I felt small after I looked at it from that direction would be calling a cantrip magic. It was a good measure however of the different swings in emotion I felt after I stopped drinking the tea. That I overreacted to Loralie’s admissions did leave me feeling slightly ashamed, but compared to my earlier emotional instabilities this year I was improving.

I had retired for the evening early, both because of how I felt and because of how much the heat had drained me that day. I simply wasn’t used to spending the day outside in the sun. So, when I was awoken from a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning by my guards shouting, I wasn’t in the best of moods. I didn’t even bother to change from my nightwear, a soft fur robe of extreme comfort, before I arrived back at the commotion.

There, to the surprise of everyone but myself, I found an assassin caught in a trap. Around him, three of my guards were quarrelling amongst themselves. I could hear the baying of wolves as Eni had taken them out on immediate patrol.

“I can’t see him! What magic is this?” Tond growled as he aimed his bow in the general vicinity of the man but not actually at him.

Two of the new guards, whose names I couldn’t remember at the moment, stood on either side of Tond with clubs held at the ready. I was a bit disappointed in realizing that they weren’t wearing the uniforms I was accustomed to for my guards, instead wearing random pieces of worn leather armor.

The assassin laughed at Tond’s failure, mocking him for whatever reason from behind a cage of glowing blue flames. I was disappointed in that, too. This was one of the lesser traps I had placed about the tower.

I recognized the man from meeting him in the capital. Cothram, a fifth-tier assassin with a class of [Dark Blade]. He was a small, wiry man with lean muscles barely visible underneath high-quality armor. With a dark countenance that suggested less than honorable actions, he watched the group of guards in humor until he saw me. Then, he immediately threw a small knife or dagger of some sort in my direction.

I sighed as it caught in a magic ward for a second before falling to the ground. I watched him a moment, evaluating his strength and skills before dismissing them entirely. Even after all this time, he was barely into his fifth-tier and, while he could possibly harm me if I was caught unaware in a moment of weakness, this was no longer the case. Moreso, I saw the veins of magic I had come to recognize as the effects of the Asrid Tea glowing within him.

After watching his blade fall to the ground, he threw three more in quick succession that all met the same reaction. I gave him a look of annoyance, to which he responded with a shrug.

“Can’t level the capital out here, can ya?” he said with a grin.

I pretended to consider the matter, feeling great satisfaction when his smug expression fell. With a wave of my hand I placed a small spell on him that would paralyze him at my choosing, and dismissed the cage that held him.

As the cage faded from existence, both he and the guards gave me a confused look, but I turned away towards the stairs, speaking loudly enough for them to hear, “Come along then. I don’t have all night and the king sent you for a reason.”

I walked downstairs without looking back. If he attacked, I was more than confident my wards would trigger a defense much greater than he expected.

“The king sent me to kill you, and you turn your back on me?” he whispered heatedly but didn’t attack. It was all the answer I needed. If he had attacked right away, I would have needed to slay him then and there, but that he followed meant that he was curious enough about what I wanted to show him. That or he was waiting for a moment of weakness.

Either way, that was all that was said between us before we arrived in my laboratory and stood before the monsterized versions of the Asrid Flowers I had grown. The soft glow of magical lanterns along the walls highlighted the monsters and magical equipment in soft blues and purples. I would need to correct that later, but for now we could see well enough. It was much too late at night to turn all the light spells on.

“Do you know what these are?” I asked softly as I turned my head to look at him as he stood beside me. This close to the man, I expected to smell oil or leather, but there was no scent at all.

“Monster plants,” he said with distaste.

“Asrid Flowers in their true form,” I corrected him, adopting a tone I used when teaching students.

He looked between me and the flowers in clear confusion and his hand, which hadn’t gone far from a large knife at his waist inched closer.

“Do you know why the king really sent you to me?” I continued. My plan wasn’t entirely complicated. In fact, it was quite simple. Yet, I’ve found that simple plans are often the easiest ones to achieve. This one hinged on his certainty, a certainty I hoped to shake.

“He wanted you dead for defying him in court. Only a fool would do so,” he spat the words out in anger.

I shook my head, “You don’t think he knew I would decline his request? Do you think so little of the king? How else could he send you to me without alerting his enemies?”

His anger didn’t dissipate, not exactly, but a look of confusion did appear in his eyes, and his brows became less furrowed. “You are working some magic on my mind, to ensure your own life.”

“Well, you may certainly ask any other mage about such a thing after this meeting to see if it is true. Yet, if I valued my own life so much, why didn’t I simply kill you in that cage? Do you think that spell was the greatest of my magics? No, you are no threat to me.”

His hand drew the knife at his belt so quickly it was halfway the distance between us before he found himself paralyzed. Pale yellow light coursed around his body like waves splashing on a beach.

Again, I sighed and shook my head before moving to sit at the chair near my table. The man’s whole body wouldn’t be able to move until I released him, though he could still breathe and blink. His gaze followed me as I sat, the look in his eyes quite intense.

“If I release you, will you stop that? It is quite bothersome to have a conversation that would need to stop every few minutes,” I asked the question, but I knew he couldn’t answer. I tapped my finger on the desk for thirty heartbeats, enough for him to realize that there was no way to escape my spell before I waved it away.

“Uh--!” he cried as he stumbled away from where he stood.

I simply waited and watched, as he checked himself and his body to ensure he was free. Not that he would be able to tell. When he finally stopped checking and appeared calm, I raised my eyebrow.

“Speak then,” he said through clenched yellow teeth.

I almost reprimanded him for his tone and arrogance in thinking he could give me a command, but I didn’t want the meeting to last longer than needed. It was better to resolve this quickly than risk failure.

“Asrid Flowers, when brewed in a tea create a magical compulsion, one of obedience,” I said and then waited.

“Obedience to what?” he asked as he gave the monster flowers a quick glance.

“When monsterized, to themselves. The version the King Sena and the rest of us drink, however goes to something else.”

“To what?” He asked puzzled.

I raised a finger and said loudly, “Exactly!”

He flinched back, and then gave me yet another look of confusion, before his eyes widened as he took in the implication. “Mirktal,” he whispered.

“Who else concerns themselves so much with control and obedience?” I asked.

“Then why didn’t the king just say so?” he demanded.

I gave him a resigned look, and lied yet again, “The king drinks the tea as well, it binds his hands more than any other.”

“And the war… no wonder Sena fares so poorly…” he said to himself more than to me, putting together a conspiracy of his own design.

“So, you now comprehend what the king wants, correct?” I asked.

He nodded, but then glanced at me with suspicion. His hand clenched his knife tighter.

I opened my hands wide and smiled, “I will be here.”

The next morning, my curses rang throughout the tower, and maybe beyond. I am uncertain how he managed it, whether he had an accomplice I didn’t detect or a skill I hadn’t accounted for but he had hurt me severely and left a message all in one act.

He didn’t hurt me physically, nor anyone else, and I had checked thrice for poisons and traps after I found his message to confirm that it was only this, but the fool had destroyed my single remaining couch. I had warded it well to keep others from sitting on it and prevent regular damage or fire from harming it, but I hadn’t warded it against fifth-tier skills.

I had that couch for seventy-five years! I had to purchase it secretly from a noble family that had lost much of their estate to a monster infestation and had to smuggle it through the City of Sena under eight different illusions. This couch meant a lot to me.

By overlooking that protection, I had cursed myself. Had he still been nearby, I would certainly have slain the man for this slight. It was only Lutha’s arrival with Little Ram that broke me from my preparations of tracking him down.