“Ohoh,” Castro said. “You must be Argrave of Vasquer. A pleasure to meet you. You are quite the tall one,” he commented. “This old man may hurt his neck looking so high up.”

Tower Master Castro stood waiting in front of Argrave’s door patiently. He was like a much more compact version of Rowe the Righteous in that both were old, bald men. Evidently that compaction had removed the terrible attitude, for Rowe would never smile so warmly.

“Just Argrave, no Vasquer,” Argrave corrected. “And you’re Castro, Master of the Order of the Gray Owl,” Argrave continued quickly. “Nikoletta informed me you were looking for me. Beyond that, I don’t know much. Although I have an inkling, I’m not quite sure. Why don’t you come in? I have no refreshments on hand, but you can at least sit.” Argrave stood aside and gestured to the table in the corner of the room.

Castro nodded. “Please and thank you.” He entered the room, noticing Anneliese. “Hello, young lady. Who might you be?”

“This is Anneliese, a friend of mine, a spellcaster from Veiden, and my travelling companion,” Argrave introduced her, walking to the table and pulling the chair back for the Tower Master. He offered the other chair to Anneliese, and then sat down himself in the third. Castro was watching his every move. Argrave could practically hear the gears turning in the man’s head as they put an image of his personality together.

“You have quite the large magic pool. I see you’re diligent with your training.”

Argrave was uneasy at the man’s comment. A-rank mages were more than mere humans—Castro could perceive magic by sight alone. “Indeed I am,” confirmed Argrave as he adjusted in the chair. “So,” Argrave began, putting his hands on the table and entwining them. “I’m very curious why a bigshot like yourself has come to visit little old me. I have an idea, but at the risk of appearing foolish should I be wrong, I’ll wait to hear your answer.”

“You are very business-like, I see,” answered Castro, smiling. “I did not have time to ask her much, but Nikoletta seemed fond of you, and from what I have seen in her time as regent of the Dukedom, she is a person of good character.”

Argrave glanced at Anneliese, but her expression was as passive as ever. “Your point being?”

“Nothing, forgive me. Old men tend to ramble. Perhaps it’s because they like the sound of their own voice,” Castro dismissed, letting out a wheezing chuckle.

Though Argrave considered mentioning Castro’s true age, he kept quiet, not wishing to unnerve the man.

“To the point, then.” Castro leaned in slightly. “Many of the more research-oriented High Wizards of the Order have taken a great deal of interest in the thesis you submitted. If it were to move from theory to practice, what you call ‘Blood Infusion’ has the potential to change the landscape of all magic.”

“I know,” Argrave nodded. “I left the thesis unfinished for that reason,” he said. Argrave could veritably smell the bait he’d hooked to his fishing line. It would be more than enough for this big fish, he hoped.

Castro stared at Argrave’s face for a moment, his expression slowly shifting. “You mean to say that you left out the completed theory?”

“Indeed.” Argrave nodded, taking his hands off the table and leaning back into the chair with arms crossed.

“Why? The mages at the Order are already discussing bestowing a grand reward upon you, and that figure might be larger.”

“I should work for nothing? Let others feast on the fruit of my labor?” Argrave held his arms wide. “It’s complete, but as a C-rank mage, I can’t yet prove it. If I give it all to them, another will find what I toiled to get. Perhaps it’s selfish, but I want all of the credit.”

The old man Castro nodded, considering Argrave’s words. “It is not unusual for a spellcaster to take pride and be possessive of their own work. But the Order of the Gray Owl is supposed to be beyond that, young man.” He tapped his finger on the table. “And further, by saying that it’s impossible as a C-rank mage, you’ve greatly narrowed the direction of further research,” Castro disclosed provocatively.

Argrave grinned. “I only mentioned it because I have a solid grasp of your character. One hundred and twenty years ago, it was you that instituted measures to reduce the political influence of the Order of the Gray Owl, trying to turn it into a politically neutral entity. You’re an honorable, just man. Your defense of Mateth proves as much.”

The Castro that Argrave knew was just a tired old man who wanted to study magic and be happy. Indeed, if a player rose high enough in the Order, Castro would simply step down as Tower Master, leaving it to the player. Such a man would not steal and develop research from a young wizard.

“I’m flattered that you think so highly of me,” the Tower Master said, though it had a casualness that betrayed he was not truly affected by the praise. He’d probably seen many sycophants in his day.

“I am, however, quite mindful of the many privileges offered to me as a member of the Order of the Gray Owl,” Argrave proceeded tactfully. “Once I am capable of proving what I preach, I’ll naturally turn in a more completed version of my theory. If I die before then, you can do as you please with it.”

“That is good,” Castro said with a nod and a smile.

Argrave carried on quickly. “But that isn’t all, naturally. Do you know about druidic magic, Tower Master?”

“The magic of the snow elves?” Castro half-asked, half-stated.

“You know of it,” Argrave pointed. “Good.” Argrave stood, moving to the chest of books and picking up some of the ones that he’d set aside that were useless. He took one and walked back to the table, placing it before Castro.

“The books with me are all druidic magic,” Argrave said grandly. “Not half-torn manuscripts or spells wrested from tortured snow elves. Fully documented druidic magic.”

Castro perked up at that, eyebrows raised in surprise. “How did you manage that?”

“Argrave is a valuable friend of the Veidimen,” Anneliese interjected, finally breaking her silence. Argrave smiled as he caught on to what she was doing. “Our people were willing to offer these books in trade.”

By naming him a friend to the Veidimen, Argrave’s value would be further amplified in the eyes of the Tower Master. Having importance and prestige in the Order would enable mobility and leeway in future encounters.

“In return, I promised to deliver some illusion spellbooks by boat at Jast. A small price to pay for bringing a new field of magic to the order, by my estimation,” Argrave tacked on to Anneliese’s words without missing a beat. “Can that be arranged, Master Castro?”

Argrave had been planning to get the illusion books through other means, but this was perfect for his needs.

Castro straightened his back, thinking. “The snow elves were just invading. Now they wish to trade?”

“Their leader and I had some words,” Argrave said. “Whole thing… big misunderstanding. This trade is a peace offering of sorts-- an exchange of knowledge,” Argrave said while nodding remorsefully. “So? Can I expect those books at Jast?”

“Em…” Castro paused, being placed on the spot so abruptly. “I suppose, if those books are genuine, it is indeed a worthy trade.”

Argrave put his finger on the book at the table and sat back down. “Peruse the book, determine its value for yourself.”

Castro picked up the book. Argrave carried on as the Tower Master examined the tome. “Druidic magic is like necromancy in that it involves the soul but differs in the approach taken. Dead souls cannot be touched; instead, the druid tries to bond and form a connection with the natural beings in the world. Some spells form a link between the caster and the animal that persists for years. Other spells might temporarily connect with a less animate soul—plant life, for instance. A very fascinating and useful school of magic, in my opinion.”

“I see,” Castro half-answered, distracted reading the spellbook. “Intriguing.”

“For now, I’ll give you all the ones that I’ve mastered,” Argrave lied. He intended to give away only the useless ones. Once he mastered the ones he needed, he would give them all up. “Eventually, I’ll bring them all to the order.”

“This is… a tremendous find, young man.” Castro closed the book and looked at Argrave. “This meeting was far beyond my expectations. Each of these books are near priceless to the Order.”

Argrave smiled. He’s talking me up like a nouveau riche hooked on some shabby art, he dialogued internally. Now’s the time to reel in the line.

“All I ask is that, when I become a B-rank wizard, the process for becoming a High Wizard is expedited, and further, I hope you can give me permission to take any spellbooks from the Tower’s library.”

Castro lowered his head, a faint expression of amusement on his face. “When you become a B-rank wizard? Few reach that milestone.”

“Very few people are me. Only one, in fact,” Argrave declared confidently.

The Tower Master looked at the book on the table, lost in thought. Eventually, he turned his eyes to Argrave. “Those things are something I can do.” He held out a hand. “I’ll send word to the libraries that you’re to be given rights to take whichever books you so please. I’ll prepare those spellbooks at Jast, though I suspect you’ll need to coordinate the delivery to these... Veidimen,” he finished respectfully.

Argrave bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. He'd earned a card that few could ever hold-- free access to all magical resources of the Order. Money was no obstacle after Foamspire, but some things could not be obtained with money. Order spellbooks were one such thing.

“Another thing. My friend here.” he pointed to Anneliese, not yet shaking Castro’s hand. “I’d like to make her a Wizard of the Order. She’s already C-rank in multiple schools, and she’s been there longer than I have.”

Anneliese was surprised, but she reined in her shock quickly. The Tower Master smiled a little. “Interesting. She would be the first snow elf in our Order, though not the first elf.” Castro scratched the top of his head. “I would agree, but it isn’t something I alone can decide. A special induction at the rank of Wizard—not common. I will bring it to my council. I can promise to be a proponent, but nothing more.” Castro smiled. “Anything else I can do for you, or can we finally shake hands?” He held out his hand once more.

Argrave shook his hand quickly. “A wonderful meeting, Master Castro.”

#####

Castro walked away from Argrave’s room with a faint smile about his face. He had considered this trip to be a disaster before that meeting. That wyvern had been a gift from the southern tribes of the desert beyond the Margrave’s territory, and it had died. Few others in Vasquer had such a thing, and the majority were nobility or royalty. Fortunately, the purpose of his trip greatly surprised him.

Impressive that he could stop the Veidimen from invading. Perhaps he was doing the bidding of the royal family… but being given a task and doing it right still requires considerable competence. He looked down at the book in his arms. Still… absolutely worthless as a disciple. He’ll wring me like a towel until he’s dead or I am. Far too shameless, that one.

Castro shook his head. In the many years of his life, he had learned that some people simply cannot tolerate guidance. Argrave was, from his insights, one such person. The royal bastard has his own plans for everything, and while he’d take what comes with an open hand, he’d never rely on anyone except himself.

His eyes are haunted. Far too much sorrow for a boy his age. Perhaps it’s the family. Castro mused, slowing his walk. Way I see it, he’ll work himself to greatness or death. All depends on the people standing by his side, I suppose. It’s best he distances himself from Vasquer.

Castro rubbed his eyes. Hah. Me, thinking about politics. This week has been far too exciting.