The snow was coming down faster and faster. Orlo wondered what set of events had brought about an unexpected winter season. Winter had been rare these last hundred years. Part of this was the reverence that the Maple Priests had for the season and all of the creatures who made their home in the north. Spirits of Wind and Ice were held in high regard in their lands. The lands to the south didn't mind the loss, and the seasons cycled through spring, summer, fall, and only a week or two of cold before returning to spring again. But when Winter came, it came with a vengeance, and this would be a bad one. Cyclones had been sighted in the high mountains, and emissaries from the court of Utgardaloki had journeyed from Jotunheim to observe the season and take its measure.

Baron Orlo Fallowstone, High Mage of the College of Arcane Runecasters, didn't mind. Anything that caused problems could be turned to his advantage. Cold could be fought by Fire Mages, showing the worth of training large numbers of apprentices and journeymen, their studies subsidized by tax money from the Imperial Treasury. Troop movements needed the teleportation system and the mana it used. And while the old adage might be 'An army marches on its stomach,' it was equally true that an army benefited from magical bandages, ensorcelled foodstuffs, enchanted weapons, and anything that could give them an advantage against the enemy. Mercenary companies spent gold like water in these uncertain times. If they marched to war, they needed the supplies. And if not, they could sell their surplus on the open market to slowly recoup their funds.

So Baron Orlo didn't mind the sight of falling snow. And if for once he couldn't see the nearby sanitarium and his sisters' faces pleading with him from their windows, he could deal with the disappointment. And it was such a nice night to relax by his hearth, hearing the crackle of the fire in the hearth and relaxing with an old book. Old books were always being found in odd places and sold by adventurers hoping for a windfall. Most couldn't read the words inside. His agents bought them up by the hundreds and brought them back to the college for the students. Most were fictional stories of other lands in obscure languages. They made for ideal practice in translation, and sometimes exceptional stories were uncovered. These were sold to the publishing houses for small sums and sometimes surprising royalty checks. One in a hundred books actually contained spells. Even one new spell variant made a book worth over one hundred gold pieces, and some volumes were worth tens of thousands. The book he had chosen to read and translate tonight might be one of those. It had some passages that were very difficult to decipher, and what he hoped was a spell to control wyverns might instead be a simple poem about the difficulties of seducing one. The language was a variation of High Fae, and those creatures were capable of doing things that any sane mortal would balk at.

His studies were unexpectedly interrupted by a subtle knock and then the entrance of his butler. Mage Humphrey was a competent magician in his own right, with subtle magics dealing in persuasion and infiltration. He had served the House of Fallowstone for two generations, a testament to the success of his alchemical skills. Only a handful of people knew he was anything but a butler and trusted confidant of an important man. If he was interrupting Orlo's night of relaxation, there was a good reason for it, and the High Mage immediately set down his book.

"Your pardon, High Mage. There is someone here to speak with you on urgent matters. I have settled Magistrate Greywater and his scribes in your largest office and served refreshments to them. As they have ridden all night to see you, I also have prepared rooms for them. Your honeysuckle tea is in a pot on your desk, as well as a seed cake fresh from the oven." Over his arm, he held Orlo's most official robe, which the High Mage took as another piece of information about his visitors. Something very important was going on.

After allowing Humphrey to help him into his robes, he selected a matching stave from his collection. This one was inscribed with a Rune of Silence. Once activated, a small bubble of reality would encase his office, preventing sound from traveling beyond its walls. Spies were everywhere. He should know, as he employed several dozen. Entering the room, he greeted the old magistrate and ignored the two scribes with him.

"Humphrey tells me you traveled several hours in the dark to get here. What brings you out to talk to me in the snow and cold?"

Greywater sipped his tea, thankful to be off the horse, and cursed the fact that the nearest teleportation stone was a three-hour ride away from the collegium and sanitarium. The pulses put out by the mana rift made teleportation unstable or even deadly. The snow had confused his senses, and they'd traveled two hours in the wrong direction, doubling the length of their journey, and he was suffering because of it.

"Many things, most of which will cause problems in the far north and the far South, and that was before this sudden winter descended on us, complicating things further. But let us start in the South. I have two spies among the traders who deal with the southern orcish tribes. Trouble is brewing, and a strong leader is gathering the tribal champions to his banner. Units and commanders travel to his encampment deep in the forests, where they train and then return to their own villages to organize their tribes. The entire process so goes against how they normally operate that the power of this Warlord must be immense."

The High Mage scowled at that. Pound for pound, the average orc was as well trained as a member of the Legion, needed no armor, and could travel through broken country with ease once sworn to a leader, following his orders fanatically. The only thing that kept the Empire safe was their competitive nature. It might take years to build a proper horde; by then, the Warlord would have to fight and put down a dozen rivals. Failure meant the death of himself and his army would be dispersed back to the villages.

"And the Emperor's assassins haven't helped him into the grave yet?"

Greywater chuckled and poured himself more hot tea. "They've tried and lost a dozen of them so far. We've done this too many times in the past, and it's no wonder a smart one knows we'd do it again. So, it looks like a small war in the South. We are stockpiling the usual supplies to make a healthy profit. But logistics is a nightmare right now. That's the second problem: there's not enough mana in the teleportation system. I'm sure you've seen the requests to double the pulse rate on the mana rift?"

It was Fallowstone's turn to laugh. "Seen and ignored. Do those fools not understand that this isn't some inexhaustible resource we can turn on and off? I can increase the pulse rate for a small amount of time, but that has consequences. The rift will become unstable, and I'll have to shut down the apparatus that creates the pulses. That can't happen! Tell them to find the mana elsewhere. Double the levy on guild members and increase the payments by 10%. And open recruitment to another thousand apprentices. Hire bards to run around the countryside and sing the old stories about likely lasses and lads who run off to the college to join a household, ride a broomstick, and learn spells. That always brings them in. Some might even be worth training."

"Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs, Orlo. All that's been done, and the bards are singing the praises of a life of magic and spellwork. But we have other problems. Players are on the move, traveling to the northern areas to take part in fighting against the icy hordes or even changing sides and aiding them. The damned Frost Priests are everywhere, recruiting and handing out Ice Aspects and spells like they were candy at the fall fair. That strains the teleportation system, as does the increased troop movements."

"Good. We make money and can raise prices."

"Not so good. Both the Emperor himself and Duke Carl have spoken in blunt terms about war profiteering. We're keeping the cost to the Legion normal. But I'm sure you can guess the next part."

Orlo could guess. "Baron William of Gadobhra."

"Exactly. Duchess Claudia said in open court how thankful she was to those of the nobility who selflessly donated resources during an emergency. We are lucky Baron William doesn't come to Court and doesn't have a representative there. We can work to downplay her words, but they've been said."

"She can say them, but in the end, how useful is what he has compared to thousands of mages? Do you know what would happen if we shut down the system or quit pumping in the mana to run it?"

The magistrate paused and considered his words. It hadn't taken much to sting Orlo today. He was angry already. "Yes, and you do too. We aren't ready for that. If we tried to use the transport system at a level like that, we might find quite a few of us facing charges of treason. Your support would disperse like a fart in a windstorm. The wizards in the guild look after themselves too much to back one of us in a coup attempt, and that's what this would be seen as. Forget that shit and listen. We need to keep the pressure on Gadobhra and stir up the Inquisition. Pay bards to sing the old songs about the Terrible Butcher and his Bloody Brigade. Remind people of how the Mage's Guild stands between them and evil. We don't have to confront Baron William; we just emphasize that we protect the man in the street from the Bogeyman in the dark. They'll connect the dots. But as to how useful Baron William can be? It's getting worse. I have written accounts from two mages who were sent to observe at Rowan Keep. Not only does he have a full team of defrocked hedge wizards working for him, but the amount of mana he controls is astronomical. He has over three hundred contract workers and hundreds of peasants, all of whom are over level 5 and into the second tier. The peasants add up to a nice chunk but don't come to the keep often. But the contract workers..."

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"Have what? A thousand mana each? Less. I know he has some in the third tier, but are we that worried Greywater?"

"Well, I am. The report said that dozens of times, they recorded his workers charging the stone at Rowan to pay for players traveling to the area or for merchant caravans. They often give over 3000 mana each. How many apprentices does that add up to? A dozen? And they don't even need the mana! They just have it. Lumberjacks, Stone Wrights, Farmers, and Crafters. The only spells they have are small cantrips to aid their work. They show up and dump the rest to the stone at Rowan as needed. He isn't donating extra, and we wouldn't buy, but Duchess Claudia knows he could! It puts us in a bad position if we can't provide the services. She might ask the Emperor to get involved."

The High Mage looked to where a slight dark area in the white haze could be seen. The sanitarium sitting on top of the mana rift was suddenly outlined by a blue-white double spiral of energy for just a second as another pulse absorbed mana from the rift and fed it into the teleportation system. "Alright. I see the point. I will increase the timing of the pulse to four minutes from five, which will give us a boost, but nothing more than that. Announce to all the mages in the guild that they are to empty their reserves each night and increase the amount we pay to double normal. That will make them happy and avert a disaster. It will also give us a reason to increase costs, even though it won't mean a loss by itself. Will that make everyone happy?"

Greywater leaned back and sighed. He hated the weakness that came from mana sickness, but it was something to endure for now. "It will, and that is one problem solved. Here is the next." He tossed a leather pouch to the desk. Orlo noted it was warm and smelled delicious, making him hungry for breakfast. Unwrapping the package, he saw a sealed glass jar with a sausage and a strip of bacon inside."

"I fail to see how enchanted breakfast meat or smoked sausage is a problem."

Greywater looked serious, as he said. "Try a bit of each, and go easy on the bacon. It's a new type of Mage's Delight. The samples were given to the commander of Rowan Keep, and he sent them to the office of acquisition, where I have friends."

Opening the jar resulted in the bacon glowing a bright red and smoke curling off the sausage as fresh air hit them. Orlo carefully examined each.

Sedgewick Smoked Sausage

Made from locally sourced meat, mixed and ground by hand. Then we smoke and cured them with our special herbs, spices, and secret sauce for that sinfully dark, sweet flavor.

Contains 50% more smoke than normal Sedgewick Sausage, for that extreme taste you crave.

Restores 200 stamina and 200 mana. Have them with every meal! Up to ten sausages per day will give this benefit.

Sedgewick Battle Bacon

You won't believe it's not Ur-Bacon! Tasty and full of power, but totally legal and won't bring down the Inquisition on you!

Just one slice of Sedgewick Battle Bacon will increase the damage of all spells that deal fire damage by 30% for 10 minutes and restores 500 mana over the next minute.

And it tastes great!

(It is recommended that anyone consuming a slice of Battle Bacon have the Fire Eating Skill or a bottle of milk handy. Also, please don't eat more than one slice in an hour. NOT RESPONSIBLE for exploding heads if you do.)

The high mage called for a plate and fork and ate them for his evening snack. The sausage was good and, as advertised, very smoky. The day's exertions receded as his energy was restored. But the bacon! That was a different story. He could feel the heat filling him as soon as he ate it, and he yearned to unleash a spell. He contented himself with small flames dancing from his fingertips. He pointed at a candle but melted it when he attempted to light it, the wax running down the wall to the carpet.

"I see what you mean, magistrate. Very powerful. I assume this is part of the trade goods brought to Gadobhra from the Smoke?"

Greywater shook his head. "Too many people assume the smoke-enhanced wands and sausages come from the outer planes. They are wrong. The Baron has a Butcher, and the Butcher in question has an enchanted smokehouse. Local legends say that one night, a daemon from Gadobhra came to destroy the town, and the Butcher wrestled it to the ground and chained it to his smokehouse. Whatever the truth may be, no spy I have sent will go anywhere near that smoking shack to see what is inside."

"Hmm, that seems like a job for the Inquisition then."

"I am far ahead of you on that. I made a brief inquiry and asked about rumors I had heard, the type of thing a good citizen does. It turns out the Inquisition has an agent in Gadobhra already, and the two teleport mages confirmed that. They are worried enough to have sent Inquisitor Diego to investigate. He spends a lot of time near that cursed ruin and has his own special agent who has infiltrated the Baron's inner circle."

"Really? Do we know of him?"

"Not enough. He's in the Emperor's service as a Courier assigned to the area. He works with Diego on special projects, the latest of which was ferreting out a rogue Paladin and slaying the daemon that was in possession of him. Mages Copulcius and Orland, who met him at Rowan Keep, speak highly of him and confirmed he is at least Tier 5 and effortlessly donated over twelve thousand mana to the stone at Rowan."

That got the High Mage's attention. "Twelve-Thousand, you say? I'd think he was closer to the sixth Tier! But where did Diego find an operative with that kind of mana, and how do we not know about him? What are his aspects?"

"Do you remember the rumors that the Inquisition was gathering new recruits with what they called 'The Right Stuff'? And sending them off to a secret training program? There may be some truth to those old rumors. So far, this man has exhibited spells using Healing and Holy Fire, sometimes both at once. There is a sealed report that I paid dearly to get of him saving both Diego and a dozen Paladins from death by summoning a manifestation of a lesser-known goddess. He invoked her again when fighting the demon."

Orlo paused for a bit. "Well, if I were an Inquisitor working in Gadobhra and had to deal with a Butcher with a demonic minion, I'd certainly want someone with Holy magic to deal with them. It seems the Inquisition is taking Gadobhra's threat seriously. I'd be curious to meet this man."

"You may get your chance. Copulcius invited him to lecture at the Arcane Collegium; perhaps we can get him to visit you here."

Orlo liked that idea. He was too far from the capital and needed connections in the Inquisition, especially powerful ones. He instinctively trusted mages more than he did those not blessed with a mind that could handle the intricacies of spellwork. "Please do that, I'd enjoy a break from the monotony of the collegium. While I love my work here, and with those poor insane souls in the sanitarium, I grow bored at times in this backwater."

Magistrate Greywater laughed. "Oh, you can say that now, but I'll remind you of your words when something exciting happens."

Before either man could speak further, a huge roar shattered the silence of the night. Racing to a window, they could see the outline of the sanitarium through the storm and the huge creature that was hovering above it.

"Saints preserve us. A dragon! What the hell attracted it here? If it's hit by the pulse from the tower, it might go insane with rage.!" The beast began to fly away, but not quickly enough, as a blue light lit up the bottom of the tower, and the mana rift prepared to pulse once more.