Chapter 1: The Escape
I hope it’ll be a quick death, Archmagus Valens thought for the thousandth time as he felt the handcuffs bite deep into his skin. Fashioned from Rootmetal, a most terrible substance created by First of the Magi as punishment for mages, the manacles quieted the myriad songs of the ambient mana around him.
Men sat about the room, waiting as a mighty voice bounced back from the whitewashed walls, rendered and cleaned of any spots. The place had a damp, close feeling about it. There were no windows, as the study was deep underground, away from curious eyes for good reason, and the glyph lamps flickered weakly like a set of candles battered by a strong wind.
I did nothing wrong.
Valens rested his eyes on the files scattered across the barwood table, then glanced up and sighed as Archmagus Eldras, the Headmaster of the Institute of Resonant Healing, went on with the second part of his tirade. He had a way with words, but Valens feared that even a single file from the table would be enough to seal his fate.
“This is simply absurd!” Master Eldras was saying, demanding with a jab of his hand an explanation from the guards, even if he knew they had every right to make these arrangements. “This is no mere criminal you can wrap a rope around and hang for the public to satisfy their primal needs! This is the youngest Archmagus the wide circle of the world has ever seen, the genius who reached the Resonant Healer status at the mere age of twenty-two! And yet you seek to punish him just because, in his pursuit of knowledge, he scraped the surface of Warmagic? I shall see—”
“Scraped the surface?” came a voice, followed by footsteps as a pale, lanky man strolled into the room. There was a confident kick to his heels, a permanent sneer to his lips, and a gash so deep that it nearly split his nose in two. He glanced over the files on the table and gave a quick, disappointed sigh. “I’m no scholar, nor an Archmagus that can pry into the knowledge laid before me, yet my birds told me what I needed to know.”
“Your birds govern the integrity of the Inquisition, then, is it?” Master Eldras regarded the man with a deep scowl after a brief pause. “Since when do we pay heed to the nonsense of ignorant fools? Old friend, you must listen to me. My disciple has no intention to shake the foundation upon which we built this world. It’s merely a scholarly pursuit, a tinge of curiosity as to why he sought the ancient knowledge.”
“Careful, Eldras, you’re treading a fine line here. Do remember that your words can be used against you,” the lanky man said. “I see in your eyes the deep affection you have for this young man. Perhaps this is the thread he used to pull you into his little scheme. But you mustn’t let the bond between Master and disciple drag you down to the mud. We’re only here for the sinner.”
Valens shook his head. So they would hang him.
“That sinner saved thousands from the claws of death.” Master Eldras peered into Valens’s eyes before raising a hand toward the Inquisitor. “That sinner is a man this Empire cannot afford to lose. He’s a gift—”
“History never lies!” the tall man growled in a gravelly voice. “We learned our lessons with blood and bones, my old friend. Lessons I intend to remember as long as I keep this chair. I urge you to do the same, lest we lose the precious time we have spent rebuilding this world from scratch.”
He turned to his men, all looking zealously into his eyes, fingers eager around the handles of their guns. A single command, and they would bring Valens before an angry crowd, read the list of his sins for all to hear, and put an end to his life to keep the monotony of this world.