When a metal cup full of water was placed in front of Huan, he glared at the non-alcoholic drink. “What’s this?”
“Drink it, and with any luck, you’ll have a clear head tomorrow.” Nodding at the bartender, Sir Marcus took the stool next to Huan. “We have a big day tomorrow. We’re deporting all of the Vanurians in Walton.”
Huan eyed the knight’s drink. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
Sir Marcus picked up his beer. “You’re attracted to crowds. I bet after we sent you away you ended up in front of the church, didn’t you?”
Ignoring the knot forming in his belly, Huan picked up his cup, drank deep, and swallowed. “Of course not. I just left. Got to stay out of trouble after all.”
Sir Marcus took a swig of beer. “Good. Good.”
Guilt pricked Huan’s heart. I can’t believe he… What does he want? “You wanted to tell me something? A story?” Huan’s face was starting to swell, so he placed the cool cup against his cheek. He’d have a bruise by morning.
The knight peered into his beer, searching for something. “Hopefully, this will help you on your way. I can see that you’re holding onto something hard, trying to wrestle it down without really understanding what it is, and when you’re working that hard, anything anybody says just sounds like bullshit, like they’re insulting all the work you’ve done, but… you need to hear this. Even if you won’t listen, you need to hear this so that maybe you’ll understand before it’s too late.”
Huan squirmed. “Just get on with it.”
Sir Marcus’s eyes lifted from his beer and met Huan’s. “Barty ever tell you how he and I met?”
Huan rolled his eyes. “Lord Kalan doesn’t talk to the help. He barely talks to his niece.”
A wry smile etched itself onto Sir Marcus’s face. “Ah, yes, he was born with a blindspot for anyone and anything non-magical, but for a while there, he was capable of seeing past it in short spurts. He just needed an interesting problem to solve.
“When we first met, oh, decades back, he was already heir apparent to Walcrest and the Guardian of the Wall. Up in the capital or out in Anders, those titles don’t mean anything since, to most Sourans, the Southern Line is just like a mountain range, something that’s been there since the beginning of time. But, for them who know what lies beyond it, it’s a thin piece of paper holding back a storm.
“Back then, since I didn’t know what lay south, I didn’t think much of Barty. He was just the younger son of a baron, barely nobility. I was raised to be a knight and had only really met other knights, all big strong fighters who could take a punch and laugh it off, and Barty was never, you know, well built. The Kalans have never put out warriors before. When you go to the capital, you’ll meet the rest of them and see for yourself. They’re all either too short, too stout, or too thin to make good fighters.” Sir Marcus chuckled.
“Anyway, Queen Sophia, the previous queen, dispatched the two of us east to find out what had happened to a certain crown princess’s consort, Tor Jensen. The man was a mage with more family prestige than magical ability, but he liked to roam the countryside in his spare time, trying to solve the problems of the commonfolk. He was supposed to have reported back by windsong but-“
Huan leaned in. “Windsong?” He’d scammed Souran nobles but hadn’t bothered to learn how they interacted with their monarch. In Tuqu, the aristocracy spent all of their time in the capital, hanging on the Emperor’s every word. The idea of any of them going out among the populace was unthinkable.
Confusion wrinkled Sir Marcus’s forehead for a moment. “Right, nowadays Barty’s not keen on staying in touch. Windsong is a message carried by flying Qe mages. Qe mages aren’t as common as pigeons nor as strong as horses, but if you want to ensure the message gets where it’s going and, even better, for it to remain private, there’s no better way.” He frowned. “I think Harvey’s sent both of the garrison’s off to Lord Gallus.”
He blinked. “Where was I? Right. Tor Jensen. The man hadn’t sent word in days, so the royal family was getting more and more antsy and sent Barty and I out to Cairnborne, where he’d last been seen. When we got there, we found Jensen’s retinue absolutely despondent. They hadn’t heard from him either, and they were terrified the crown princess would punish them for dereliction of duty. I wasn’t worried though. A weak mage is still a mage.
“With that in mind, I thought it was a simple search and rescue or if Jensen was dead, a simple search and retrieve, and so I proceeded to go around the village, asking what Jensen had been doing. Barty though had different ideas. While I consulted the head of the village, Barty disappeared into their tiny library and fell asleep on top of a book. While I interviewed the farmers that Jensen had tried to help, Barty wandered around the village muttering nonsense to himself. Finally, while I was organizing the villagers and the consort’s retinue into a search party, Barty took a nap.”
“What an asshole,” said Huan. Those actions fit with his impression of the noble mage.
Sir Marcus smiled. “I would have agreed.” His eyebrows furrowed. “From what Barty says, you’ve only met two Qe mages so far, Lady Pol and himself, correct?”
Huan smirked. “What? Miss Prissy Pants and Dwayne don’t count?”
“Young Magdala hasn’t graduated yet, and Dwayne isn’t…” Sir Marcus shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with thinking of him as a Qe mage.”
“What? He too dark for you?”
Sir Marcus’s eyes dropped to his beer. “Do they have stories about Wesen mages in Tuqu? Qe mages can move earth, sky, and sea, but Ri mages can summon powers that no one should be able to wield, powers that can reduce a body to ash in an instant. The only Wesen mage I’ve met before Dwayne, the same woman who gave Lord Kalan that book that Dwayne carries, she split a ship in two.” He finished his beer. “I’ll need more.”
While Sir Marcus waved the bartender over, Huan tried to imagine Dwayne wielding that kind of power and failed. Yes, the Wesen mage had stopped dragon flame and sure, that thing he’d done in Yumma to save himself and Mei had been impressive, but none of that sounded half as impressive as what Lord Kalan had done to subdue the dragon.
Sir Marcus paid the bartender and sipped his fresh brew. “Ah, that’s the stuff. So, if you’d seen any real Qe mages other than Barty and Lady Pol, you’d know that most of them are lazy, pretentious, and obnoxious. There are a few like Lady Pol who do meaningful research and others that try to do what Jensen did, but for the most part, they just sit in the Magisterium doing nothing, and so when I saw a minor noble and a mage lazying about being useless, I got angry. After I sent out the search parties, I called Barty out and told him what I thought of his ‘work’.” Sir Marcus leaned in, his eyes sparkling. “Do you know what he said?”
“What?”
“‘My job starts now.'”
Huan’s head jerked back. “What the-“
“Right? I nearly punched him in the face.” Sir Marcus laughed. “Instead, I left him in town and coordinated the search. For hours, we found nothing, but then I started to notice that a few of the search teams were out of position and were checking out random rock piles here and there without regards to my orders. When I grabbed one and asked them what they were doing, guess who had given them new orders.”
“Lord Kalan,” answered Huan.
“The very same. When I heard that, I tracked him down, punched him right in the mouth, and demanded to know what by the cup he was doing. The man got back up, brushed himself off, and answered, ‘I’m eliminating all possibilities. We only have one left.’ Then he told me to follow him, leading me and a half dozen villagers to a pile of rocks that my searchers had walked right on by. He patted the ground, told all of us to stand back and be ready, and before any of us could ask for clarification, he cast a spell, and the rocks wrenched themselves out of the ground and rose into the air. I thought he was just showing off, but right under those rocks, bruised, tired, and dusty, was Tor Jensen.
“After we bundled the man onto a carriage and sent him home, I asked Barty how he knew where to look. He explained that while I’d been talking to people, he’d been researching the geological history of the area.”
Huan ran his hands through his hair. “The what history?”
“How the rocks and soil have changed over the years. When a mage actually bothers to do anything, they record their findings and store them in the local library. Barty found out that Cairnborne had a history of sinkholes, and he’d heard about an underground river Jensen had gone to investigate from one of the farmers I’d interviewed, and so he decided to follow up by ordering a few of my search teams to trace the course of that river. When I asked him ‘what did he need me for if he’d figured it out all on his own?’, he answered, ‘I’m not good with people, but I know how to do research. You don’t know research, but you can organize a search party in less than a day.'”
Huan sipped his water and gave Sir Marcus the side eye. “And your point?”
Sir Marcus faced Huan. “We can’t do it alone, and sometimes you need to ask for help.”
Huan snorted. “Lord Kalan asked you for help and you lost an arm. Was that worth it?”
Sir Marcus looked at his one remaining hand. “Would I prefer to still have both arms? Yes, but we would have lost more if I hadn’t been there. I can’t claim to understand what Barty and Dwayne are working on, but I know it’s going to change the world, hopefully for the better.”
A growl rumbled out of Huan’s throat. “I don’t see how that helps you. You’re not a mage.”
Sir Marcus pushed his stein away, stood up, and stretched. “I just wanted you to hear what I had to say. With any luck, you’ll listen later.” He left the tavern.
The bartender shuffled forward. “Do you want anything?”
Huan glanced at the half-empty glass of water. The strong don’t need help. “No, I’m fine.”
Admaeus Speaks 
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