Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Cheshyret continues his cooperative deception with Baelok. The half-elf sage is admittedly skilled, and if Cheshyret weren’t careful, he might actually lose the battle to prevent his own subjugation and control. While Cheshyret should be immune to mind control, hypnosis, and other control spells, he can potentially be driven out of his current body. It should be virtually impossible for them to do anything else that might jeopardize the Fievegal itself, Cheshyret has long since abandoned the word “impossible” when it comes to magic. In fact, Daniel himself proved that “impossible” is simply the only thing that is truly impossible.

He slayed Lugrae the Feral Feldrok with nothing more than a chemical reaction and a piece of metal crafted around a piece of dragon tooth. Given enough time and resources, it seems Daniel could likely be the one person in the world capable of sieging the Citadel and winning.

That said, Baelok is a scholar, and so are most of his colleagues. They have little or no ambition towards aristocratic or political gain. If anything, they are a threat to the aristocracy and royalty because they are the record keepers, both of magic and of history. How the future sees them relies on the perspective of the scholars, and the scholars rely on their own legacy surviving on the back of their integrity.

That said, a scholar’s integrity is most precious in their writing. To ensure their survival, the truth is not always the solution when it comes to spoken word. In such cases, integrity is more of a… guideline.

Baelok collapses into a chair in the corner of the room. He just finished recording his ‘discoveries’ and is exhausted. He sent the others to get their meals or take brief naps to avoid losing their sanity, or worse, their lives.

“The room is clear,” states the cold and intimidating voice of Cheshyret, the true soul commanding the body of the golem. It is already looming over Baelok, giving him a bit of a start, but he knows he is at Cheshyret’s mercy in a sense.

“Y-Yes… So it is.” The half elf sits up and opens his weary eyes.

“And, the Count? What is his status?”

“You know, it’s incredibly dangerous for me to be asking about him with you, you know… being you. His Majesty is not as foolish as his aggression might suggest. I’ve heard far more stories than most people, and I’ve seen him many times before you and I became acquainted.”

“Is. He. Alive?” emphasizes the golem, and Baelok twitches. He looks away, massaging his forehead.

“I’m not sure. I asked what kind of magic you used during your attack in hopes of getting them to answer more questions indirectly, and the closest I could get was when I asked if there was anything I could do for Count Baumalde, since there are rumors of his involvement, even though the official story is that he was nowhere near the assassination attempt. I think they want to emphasize the story’s focus on the Grand Prince being the target, which justifies his actions. Additionally, Count Baumalde and his family fled Mornistae, from what I know, so there could be a major diplomatic nightmare if it were to leak. It may be why they’re hesitant to address him with me, since I am an Imperial, but I am effectively a third party.” He slumps back in his chair and groans. “Why do humans have to be the biggest obstacles to my peaceful life of research? They barely live over a hundred years, but it feels like they spend every minute of it spiting me.”

Cheshyret is completely still for a moment, which is what he does when he’s thinking. He doesn’t pace or make any sorts of extra gestures that would give him away if someone were to walk in suddenly.

But, it can be unnerving, since he is as still as a statue, while his ‘face’ is expressionless.

“I need to see for myself. Count Baumalde’s survival cannot be allowed under any circumstances. Take me near the infirmary, and I will locate him.”

“I-It’s late at night. If they see us walking around…” objects Baelok nervously.

“You will tell them that you are performing an experiment with a change of environment, as there are moonlight-activated glyphs present, and you need more moonlight. You’ll have to wheel me outside in a cart.” Cheshyret grabs Baelok by the collar of his robes and pulls him to his feet. “Let us not waste time. Nighttime will be easier to deal with, as there will not be an abundance of healers present.”

“W-Wait! Do-Do you intend to fight if there are people in the way!?”

“I will ensure your safety. All you need to do is maintain our cover and trust whatever strategy I might employ to defend you. If anything does happen to you, I will atone with my own life. This I swear, for whatever it’s worth.”

Baelok hesitates for a moment. He notices that Cheshyret isn’t simply dragging him outside to start their little clandestine rendezvous. And, throughout this whole process, Baelok has had some limited options to refuse. He suspects Cheshyret would kill him without a thought if he were to threaten the mission, but it also seems like Cheshyret is operating outside of the Fievegal’s permission structure.

That said, unless Baelok can basically create a magical brand that would definitively pin the golem’s creation and control on the Fievegal, which is impossible at this point, short of forging it, he isn’t at threat because of the golem.

He is in danger because of the Grand Prince.

It seems Yaulander is making a lot of moves that he doesn’t want the Empress to have too much information on, and Cheshyret believes that the Grand Prince may be acting as some sort of chaos agent, though he hasn’t elaborated much.

The half-elf sorcerer takes a deep breath and sighs. “You have to extend me a little more trust, then. If either of us discovered, I’m the one who can die here and now, as proven by your first attempt. Is it worth doing all of this, when your existence here poses a very real threat to the Fievegal? If you simply vanish, the Grand Prince loses any and all physical evidence to back up his claims, which are spreading like wildfire already.”

Cheshyret is silent once more, and Baelok feels a little disappointed. But, it only lasts a moment.

“There is an abyssal creature acting as some sort of… outer god, deep beyond the boundaries of existence that you or I can perceive. She does not exist in the light that is seen at the very precipice of life and death. She exists in the darkness that surrounds that light, and she is constantly whispering. We cannot have the Count creating a monstrous weapon for a man who will brandish them recklessly when one world-ending threat is already looming over us. We can’t ignore our enemies simply because there is a hakkadel roaring at us. If I can chop off his hands first, then I won’t worry so much about him while we face the hakkadel.” Cheshyret looks directly at Baelok finally, and it sends a momentary chill through the half-elf; one of profound understanding and peace, yet also a sense of foreboding mixed in. “And, this hakkadel is far from being a reckless monster. It is a master of enthralling puppets to do its bidding in plain sight.”

After only a moment of pondering these ominous words, Baelok replies simply, “I understand.” The Archmagus then starts for the door, and Cheshyret watches him. “Well? I doubt I can actually carry you to the cart, and using magic will draw attention prematurely. Surely you’d like to avoid detection as long as possible, yes?”

The former Uhl’tall within a golem body scoffs lightly. “Consider me in your debt, Archmagus,” replies Cheshyret quietly as he follows.

Once they reach the exit of the laboratory building, Baelok has the golem standby at the door while he sneaks off to retrieve a handcart. When he returns, Cheshyret sits down on his knees in the cart, sitting stock-still like he was instructed to do so by the archmagus, since they are pretending that he has some rudimentary control over the golem; the ‘first layer of defense’.

Cheshyret whispers, “Over there, by the fountain. I’ll handle the rest from there.”

The fountain he mentions is in the middle of the villa complex being used by Yaulander. It has the fortress walls and a moat around it like a typical castle, but the whole villa is in an extremely remote location, like a hidden holdout for the Grand Prince should he need to do so. It was one of many reasons that Baelok was so nervous when he was brought here, but the Grand Prince does need to retain the loyalty of the rest of the Empire if he wishes to retain his own authority. Empress Sundenelle specifically chose her cousin Themihk as her Deputy Regent, while Duke Walliskah has been assigned the role of Chief Viceroy. For Prince Regent Themihk, this role grants him virtually all of the powers of the Empress up to a certain point, while Duke Walliskah is the chief of the nobles. Either one of these roles would normally have gone to Yaulander, as he is the second highest-ranking person in the Empire prior to the impending union with the Fievegal that is spreading throughout the Empire almost as fast as the rumors about the Fievegal’s Emperor and his predilections for seemingly all things that might damage his reputation as much as possible.

Ironically enough, if they spread the truth about how the mana fire was put out, they would have a rather compelling reason to unite the world against him. But, Cheshyret certainly isn’t going to give anyone any ideas.

Once in position near the fountain, Cheshyret says quietly, “This is good enough. Begin your work. If anyone approaches, I’ll make glyphs appear in the moonlight itself.”

Baelok nods, stretching as he summons his staff. It’s extremely dark in the courtyard, but there is a fair amount of light from the three moons, which are relatively spread out on this particular knight and ideally, any guards should see him in the center of the complex and not be especially suspicious. To help make it easier, though, he casts a night-vision spell on himself to make it easier. He’ll need an excuse for why he isn’t using a lantern while working in the dark outside.

Baelok starts inspecting the golem carefully and slowly while watching Cheshyret’s hand start moving. It detaches from his body, crawling like a small crustacean with four legs. With a surprising level of agility, though, the hand hops down from the cart bed and disappears into the darkness as it crawls away.

“Incredible,” whispers the archmagus. Cheshyret defies almost all known conventions on golems in the eastern nations because of how much autonomy he has, the fact that he can control any part of his body even after it’s detached, and that he truly does have magic defenses that Baelok would require years or decades of research to truly break through, were he still trying to, now that he has seen behind the curtain.

Cheshyret’s voice whispers, “Be mindful, I am still present. I’d appreciate you not trying anything foolish.”

Baelok is a bit surprised, but he lets it wash away just as quickly. If he remains surprised by every little thing Cheshyret does, he’d be essentially catatonic, since the list of instances has already started to rival most reference books.

Knowing that there are races that can hear especially well, Baelok decides not to speak. He simply nods and starts pointing various magic analysis devices and performing some more tests as he “attempts to force the runes to appear”.

I should have asked how long he expects this to take, thinks the half-elf to himself. I hope it’s not going to be several hours. I can sell an hour or so, but…

He stretches his back, realizing how achy and stiff he has gotten spending all day in the laboratory.

As he’s looking at Cheshyret again, though, he does realize that the golem was already missing one hand.

I wonder if he did the same thing before… But if so, what exactly did he do? The archmagus makes a mental note to ask Cheshyret if any part of his body can become a remote, or even deputy operative. A mini-golem, as it were. If so, he wonders if the golem can suddenly break himself apart into every single piece and scatter into a small attack force. Cheshyret is capable of casting magic through the golem, so if he can actually control all of the pieces at once and deploy attack spells from each mini-golem, he could easily outflank a team.

But, if that’s the case, why didn’t he do so against the knights defending Count Baumalde? Actually, I wonder how much of what Cheshyret has told me is true. I suppose my excitement to study him has made me a little overly-trusting. Though, I also suppose I know exactly how little I can trust Yaulander already.

Baelok scoffs to himself as he continues his pseudo-work. He activates a magic-powered device that is meant to partially power a spell, allowing him to dial-up the mana application slowly just before reaching the activation point of the spell itself. It’s a great way of helping identify an unknown magic scroll’s components when the magic language used is unknown.

He also operates a decoy device that is meant to ‘trick’ a spell’s layered defenses into ignoring the one that is testing the spell. It has taken centuries just to reach the level of magic technology that allows Baelok to do so, and it still takes very specific spell-casting to activate in the first place, which is why they typically remain limited to wealthier royal families. This helps avoid nefarious mages from countering the devices directly.

As Baelok ponders both his current task and the golem’s actual magic defenses out of a sincere curiosity, a voice nearly startles him to death.

“A beautiful night out, isn’t it, Archmagus?”

Baelok whirls to face the speaker, whose voice is all too familiar to him at this point. He wouldn’t be upset if he never hears the voice again, but that implies he survives the next five minutes.

Grand Prince Yaulander is dressed in evening robes, but he is flanked by his entire usual escort; six fully armed and armored knights armed with the elongated tanju weapons from Mornistae, two battle mages armed with the short tanjus as a supplement to their magic, Count Contarro, whose armor and armaments are concealed beneath a cloak, and the archoneldwyn mistress that Baelok would rather never see again. They aren’t aggressively approaching, but it’s clear that Yaulander’s suspicions have only grown, not shrunk since the attempted assassination. Baelok suspects that Yaulander knows he wasn’t the true target, but because he was present, it makes him the likely target, and thus, a heavier sell when accusations are made.

“Your Majesty! Y-Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Baelok looks up at the sky, forgetting for a moment how dark it actually is at present, even with the light of the mother moon and the two twins.

However, it strikes him just as quickly. He didn’t notice their approach because none of them are carrying torches at the moment. He returns his gaze to the Grand Prince, saying politely, “I was hoping to make use of the moonlight. I have a working theory that there are glyphs here hidden from normal view unless revealed under moonlight, and I was just about to perform the deconstruction.”

“Is that so?” asks Yaulander politely as he approaches. His eyes and blonde hair are glowing faintly in the darkness, a symptom of a person’s mana in general, and normally barely noticeable. It’s actually part of why Baelok was so easily sold on the moonlight idea, since there are actually a few stealth spells that clash starkly with the soft light of certain phases of the moon during certain seasons, making a person more visible than if they never used stealth at all. He studies the golem for a moment, and he says, “Show me.”

“Of course, your Majesty. Please, allow me.” Baelok carefully sets up each of the devices he’ll need. He has no choice but to trust Cheshyret to do the right thing at this moment, or to otherwise finish what he’s doing before they realize it.

And, ideally, leave no traces of having done so.

As he’s working, Yaulander remarks, “‘Moonlight-revealed runes’ seems like something that would be talked about rather frequently. I can think of several applications off-hand right now, which makes me wonder why I haven’t heard of it sooner.”

“I’m admittedly stretching my imagination at this point, your Majesty. I believe I’ve quantified the mana being used when the golem is operable, including the defense layers, but I haven’t been able to quantify certain components specifically, suggesting they’re still being hidden. I believe I heard about a stealth spell that was accidentally revealed by the moonlight, though it has likely been decades since.”

“Hmm, yes. Now that you mention it, I do recall reading about something like that myself.” Yaulander looks to Nesparu, asking, “Count Contarro, can you recall where I would have read that? I’m sure it’s a bit obscure…”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“If I recall correctly, your Majesty, it’s listed in one of the volumes of the ‘Compendium of Shellenthark’.”

“Ah, yes, that’s the one. Written by Archmagus Frymonskain kos Tallunis. I should review that one again.”

Worse than Yaulander appearing impatient, as he has most days of the last few weeks, is the current version of Yaulander appearing mature, engaged, and interested. He sounds sincere, rather than sarcastic, but it tickles Baelok’s danger senses. He doesn’t even know how to describe the unease he’s feeling right now, but Baelok is little more than a benki being faced down by a shaelhund. Even if he’s not being ragdolled around by a hungry carnivore, any false move will lead to his demise.

“I find Lord Archmagus Tallunis’s writings have a sort of… vastness that is difficult to truly describe,” replies Baelok as respectfully as he can. Frymonskain was a human and a noble with his own formal title.

He was a human and a noble with his own formal title in the Empire.

The Empire is rather well-blended amongst the various sapient species, since many wars have been fought, and Sundenelle’s ancestor who made use of the unique traits of everyone who fell under his banner ended up forging a prosperous nation with options to counter many offensive and defensive strategies in battle. It gave him a far more lateral ability to engage any situation on any terrain and still have excellent chances of success.

But, even so, as one of the most numerous races on the continent, humans tend to be born with a ravenous ambition to rise higher than they are. The elves have largely faded from the continent for the exact opposite reason; in an effort to preserve peace and avoid becoming endless tools of war, they have withdrawn from most societies and virtually vanished. And, elves are often considered the closest friends to the humans, even if most prejudices on the eastern side of the mountains dividing Stoerykame are limited to rivalries at worst thanks to Mattarglos and the Empire.

Yaulander laughs at Baelok’s statement, saying with apparently obvious amusement in his voice. “‘A vastness’! Hahahaha! What an accurate way to say he is a fiendishly long-winded chatterbird in written form.”

Baelok says nothing. His sire was a noble, and his own rank as an Archmagus gives him a sort of positional nobility, but he is not truly a titled noble. Speaking ill of any noble, especially the late Marquis Tallunis, could see him accused of Lèse-majesté. It’s unlikely because he’s so high ranked in a sense, but it wouldn’t be impossible if Yaulander wanted to find any reason he could to get rid of him.

“Now then, is this moon-activated magic the only progress you’ve made? It seems like you’re making baby steps in a field that you are the foremost expert on.”

A part of Baelok is annoyed by the expression Mri’kala’xen makes as Yaulander says this. It’s a bit of a smirk, but with a ‘polite’ edge to it that could be passed off as just being her expression. As before, she is hardly dressed as a slave, since the human Zuzia has always been dressed in rags, while this archoneldwyn could easily pass for exotic royalty. It’s a relatively open secret now that he has a fondness for her, but she doesn’t seem to be casting the magic on him anymore.

For all I know, it was hypnosis magic, but I doubt I’m so lucky that it would be to my benefit either way.

“I can only speak to the fact that I am making progress, your Majesty. I apologize that it is not as fast as would be most convenient, but I am starting to believe it is something even more advanced than the Fievegal that we are up against.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” replies Yaulander. “Though it pains me to admit, I do believe the Citadel, at the very least, has ancient magic that the Fievegal is only making use of, like savages that managed to obtain an imperial sword forged by the Royal Blacksmiths themselves; effective while it remains as sharp as the day it was made, but always decaying in the hands of people who have no idea how to maintain it.”

Baelok activates his devices, and after a few moments, runes start to glow faintly blue on the shell of the golem. The half-elf is relieved that Cheshyret is paying attention, and he replies as he makes some adjustments.

“I would agree with you, your Majesty, which is why I’m starting to fear that it may be some sort of ancient evil, like some abyssal creature with powers beyond our realm.”

A tingle trails down Baelok’s spine, and he twitches, looking at Yaulander again. The Grand Prince is smiling, all things considered, but it’s now that Baelok notices his cheek scars have completely healed. But, it’s only because he is hyper-alert thanks to the momentary, instinctual fear that just slipped through him and vanished just as quickly.

“Incredible work. You’ve achieved another result, as expected,” replies Yaulander with an unreadable tone.

“Thank you, your Majesty. I-I assure you, I’m not trying to imply that I won’t be able to break the spells, I am just worried that I am facing some sort of ancient power belonging to… I don’t know, something akin to an… uh, outer god or something of the like; a titan not unlike the Strylak…” The half-elven archmagus is starting to feel sweat trickling down his back, and his hairs are standing on end. Mri’kala’xen has maintained a quaint smile, but she doesn’t seem to be the one creating the predatory feel that Baelok is being prodded by; a sort of malicious coldness that is needling his very soul, but somehow impossible to detect. His body is screaming of danger, now, not just whispering it, but he can’t figure out what has changed. And, he can’t afford to start acting overtly suspiciously, because any of the trio formed by Nesparu, Yaulander, or Mri’kala’xen are intelligent and attentive enough to pick up on it.

It’s almost certainly Yaulander, but Baelok doesn’t understand what he said that would cause such animosity. Realizing that Yaulander is almost desperate to pin the assassination attempt on the Fievegal, Baelok adds, “Th-This could be the secret power within the Citadel, your Majesty. I have only seen the Citadel once from afar after it fell to ruin, since I was born after the Feldroks went extinct. B-Before Hekate, if she actually is one. But, everything I’ve ever heard of the Feldroks, they may have been able to harness the power of even the abyss beyond our mere mortal realm. Every day that I work at this, I make a step closer to the answers…”

Baelok realizes he has started rambling in a panic, and he trails off nervously, watching the Grand Prince.

Still, Yaulander has only worn a simple smile, albeit a rather cold one. He turns his own Imperial attention to the golem, and he touches its armor with his gloved hand. “You know, Archmagus, this golem singlehandedly engaged an entire squad of knights, and it slew eleven men. Strangely, though, I never saw it take any meaningful damage until one of the enigmatic mana-depressions rolled across us, deactivating it.” He scoffs as he holds his hand out, and Nesparu hands over a short tanju. “I certainly never saw its hand get sliced off, yet its left hand vanished at some point during the battle, only for siege defenses above the gate to be activated on my men.”

The Grand Prince studies the tanju casually as he turns it over in his hands, and he pulls back the striking mechanism, which generates a spark next to the port that contains the special powder that makes them work without magic.

Baelok doesn’t know what he said that would have given him away, but he feels genuine terror for the first time since his childhood. His throat feels immediately dry, and his magic feels like it’s fluttering in and out of his hands like a butterfly dancing between his fingers; gossamer and fleeting when he might need it most.

Yaulander aims at the head of the golem, and Baelok flinches slightly. The golem never moves, but he quickly urges, “Y-Your Majesty… I don’t yet know if this golem has a core the way our conventional ones do, and…”

The blond man continues speaking, ignoring the pleas of the archmagus, “It struck me as peculiar, but then, there were two other attackers that engaged Rat in battle to separate her from me. But, where did the golem’s hand go? It just seems to have vanished.”

Baelok’s eyes instinctively glance at the golem, which is seated on its knees with its wrists resting on its thighs. Still, Cheshyret hasn’t moved or given any indications of life, even with the tanju aimed at his head.

But, more importantly, Baelok is very familiar with the fact that Cheshyret’s left hand is missing.

It’s not the only one.

BOOM!

A thunderous clap like the very power of the sky itself strikes directly in Baelok’s ear, and he yelps, flinching as he tries to cover it. Meanwhile, a blast of white smoke engulfs Cheshyret’s head, and the golem flops to its side lifelessly on the cart, draping over the side like a sack of root vegetables carelessly tossed onto the wagon.

Baelok, who fell to his hands and knees out of surprise, scrambles up in horror as he looks at Cheshyret. The golem is unmoving, and the archmagus has no idea what will happen next. If Yaulander has already made up his mind, then Baelok’s only line of defense, other than trying to fight off this troop with his own magic, was supposed to be Cheshyret himself and his promise to ensure no harm comes to Baelok.

But, as it stands, Baelok hasn’t explicitly claimed to be on any other side than the goal of overcoming magic.

“Interesting,” says Yaulander, as if he didn’t just utilize an otherworldly weapon to intimidate the absolute life out of the archmagus.

“What’s interesting, your Majesty?” asks Mri’kala’xen affectionately as she slithers up and clings to his arm lustfully.

“Unless my memory has failed me, only one of the golem’s hands were missing when it was defeated initially.” Yaulander looks directly at the half-elf sorcerer, and he asks with a coldness to his tone that could freeze a waterfall.

“Where is the golem’s right hand, Archmagus?”

This question nearly stops his heart. Any answer he gives will dig the hole deeper, since it’s clear that Yaulander has meticulously paid attention to every detail the whole time. Maybe he was worried about theft of the valuable components, since the metal is unknown, or maybe he was worried about its capture being leaked.

Or, as Baelok’s beating heart starts to feel like it’s pumping liquid daggers through his chest, it becomes more and more likely that he never trusted Baelok or Cheshyret at all.

Baelok stammers, “I… Your Majesty…”

Yaulander leans close to the half-elf and whispers so that only he can hear, and his words carry a crushing weight with them.

“If you think I will be denied by the death of one worthless liar who cannot even surpass a filthy goblin, you have no idea what it means to work beyond death.”

Baelok tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but his mouth is as dry as a desert, and his throat feels like it has been put into a vice.

Cheshyret… Your Majesty Sundenelle… Someone… Please help me…

***

Cheshyret cannot read minds without an appropriate spell, which would likely be detected instantly, but he has been observing every moment and every word being said. His deployed hand has found Baumalde, and he looks absolutely worse for wear.

Most of his body is scorched beyond recognition, but he is alive, and there are various medicines on the furniture around him. In life, the Uhl’tall known as Cheshyret could utilize a spell that would grant him a kind of analytical vision that could let him inherently know what the substances he focuses on are, meaning he could identify medicines and other substances from look alone, and instinctively know certain qualities, such as toxicity levels, mana content, and the presence of ingredients, if he can guess what they are to begin with.

However, like the hypnosis magic, if he were to cast it now, it would give away his remote deployment.

Damn it. He’s more paranoid than I thought. Though… why would he present himself if he’s so… No… It’s not paranoia. What gave us away? Was he on guard the entire time? Why did he let the farce play out as long as he did, then?

The golem ponders this as fast as possible, and he can feel the ‘tingle’ through his connection to the Citadel. Cheshyret is one of the oldest and most ‘free’ golems in the Citadel, because he needed to be able to work for and against feldroks if need be, which was a responsibility he did not take lightly. Xyreko is trying to get into contact with him, since she knows he’s not fully present within the Citadel.

Well… Looks like I’m about to be purged anyways… Hekate, your ancestors…

Cheshyret scoffs to himself.

Live a long life of happiness, Hekate. If I could destroy all of your enemies alone, I would. But, it looks like I’ll only be able to take out one. Daniel, if you value your own soul, I hope you can protect the last of the feldroks…

Cheshyret’s hand springs from its hidden location onto the bed, crawling quickly up the infirm man’s torso to his neck. His damaged eye opens slightly, and he tries to huff in terror to get the attention of the people nearby. They are focused on preparing medicine, bandages, or food, and have all finally looked away from him.

The golem’s hand latches onto Baumalde’s neck, and he ponders the words he just heard.

‘If you think I will be denied by the death of one worthless liar who cannot even surpass a filthy goblin, you have no idea what it means to work beyond death.’

Does he have revival potations? Is that archoneldwyn woman capable of something I’m not aware of? Or, is the Fellmother actually helping Yaulander through one of the friars? Well… Two can play at this game, I suppose…

He only has one shot, and even though he is currently crushing Baumalde’s throat with his mana-driven golem grip. The moment he uses mana, his full cover is blown, which means he needs to split his focus and act swiftly and with viciousness.

Through his detached hand, Cheshyret casts a spell to eradicate Baumalde’s mind. It’s a powerful spell, but requires a long time to cast. As long as he can wipe the man’s mind before he actually dies, though, it should prevent even a creature like the Fellmother from being able to use whatever necromancy she was able to send Morthybargaron back into the Citadel with through her connection to Daniel from extracting his knowledge.

Yaulander can have Baumalde’s body, his wife, and whatever children he might have. The void artillery is what Cheshyret needs to prevent. And, if it were up to him, he’d destroy the surviving unit as well, but it’s under strict guard in another area now.

At the same time, with his main body, Cheshyret will have to move with a blinding swiftness and precision if he hopes to accomplish the next most important step of his mission.

Without any warning and with lightning-fast brutality, the seemingly lifeless armor of the golem snaps upwards and launches himself at Baelok’s back. His left arm locks around the half-elf’s neck, while his right presses tightly up against his head, wrenching the archmagus’ spine and nearly breaking it instantly.

With the suddenness, everyone around them snap-reacts to their defensive stances, with the only exception being Yaulander, who doesn’t even back away when Cheshyret reveals himself, in spite of Mri’kala’xen being startled back, hiding behind the Grand Prince.

The blond man makes eye contact with Cheshyret and smirks, while the golem keeps Baelok between himself and the knights armed with the more archaic flintlock muzzleloaders that Rikuto guided the creation of in Mornistae. It’s no secret to anyone that knows better that they are still far inferior to Daniel’s creations, because Daniel’s firearms make use of every piece of information he already knew firsthand on Earth, with some gaps filled in with the brute force creation that magic can allow. But, even Rikuto’s tanju pistols and flintlock long guns increase the lethality of soldiers vastly at short ranges, posing a threat to even the dragons. At least, ideally that is the case for them.

Like Neith, Cheshyret withstood the tanju pistol shot with relatively little harm to his metal head; he is now scratched and partially dented, but otherwise completely superficial blemishes that only add character to his golem.

That said, he is relatively cornered, since he needs to remove the suspicions on Baelok, lest he be tried for treason before Sundenelle ever hears about any of this. If he tries to cast magic, he’ll be partly vulnerable, and if he tries to teleport with Baelok, there’s no way they’ll let him escape.

“Impressive,” remarks Yaulander with a seemingly sincere level of admiration towards Cheshyret. “I had my suspicions, but to think that you could reconnect to a golem remotely. Unless, of course, your master has always been close.”

Cheshyret ponders whether or not to answer. Yaulander has the advantage at the moment, and he won’t be convinced by Cheshyret trying to play along. The Grand Prince is laying a trap of a sort, and the golem doesn’t know what the end goal is, specifically, other than to provoke Cheshyret.

“P-Please help me,” chokes out Baelok as the golem keeps him between the knights, which keep their long guns trained on him, spreading out in a wide arc to flank Cheshyret. He needs to make a tactical decision quickly without truly giving away who he’s with. If he is destroyed, he will no longer have control over whatever Yaulander attempts to do with his body. He backs away without saying anything, trying to delay any attempts to flank him and making use of the fountain itself.

I could try to hit these guys with water, but any one of them could make a move…

“I owe your Emperor a great debt,” adds Yaulander when Cheshyret refuses to answer him. “That said, I owe you an even great one.”

“If you don’t want this man to die, tell your men to back away,” growls Cheshyret.

“So, you can talk? That’s good.” Yaulander signals with his hand, and Nesparu steps up once more, handing him the reloaded tanju pistol. Yaulander points the pistol towards Cheshyret and Baelok, and the half-elf’s legs go weak. The golem has no trouble keeping them standing up in the fountain, but the archmagus is dead weight now.

“I’m sorry, Archmagus Baelok. It seems it won’t be my attempted assassination by the Fievegal that we will be protesting.”

“N-No…” chokes out Baelok in terror, and Cheshyret realizes it just as quickly.

No! He wouldn’t!

“Fire,” orders Yaulander. His pistol is the first to fire, but the long guns and mage pistols fire as well within a single second after, thundering in a sudden, slightly staggered chorus of terror.

Cheshyret braces, but there’s nothing he can do in the speed even true black powder weapons can deliver death across such a short range. He feels every impact that hits Baelok’s body, with several of the shots whizzing by with a strained whistle that is mostly drowned out by the thunderous blast. Only one shot actually strikes Cheshyret’s metal armor after piercing through Baelok’s inner thigh.

The half-elf spits up blood as his strength rapidly depletes, and he all but literally melts in Cheshyret’s arms, lifeless in seconds.

Cheshyret is horrified as Nesparu pel Contarro shouts, “Reload! Mages, keep the golem contained!”

Teleporting with another body requires an actual teleportation spell. With the golem recall, Cheshyret can simply dissolve himself and return to the Citadel automatically.

The mages are already casting, and he lost a lot of time being stunned by the fact that the Grand Prince so callously ordered Baelok’s death.

If he can be brought to the Citadel, there’s a chance a revival potation can save him. But, if Cheshyret takes him directly there, Yaulander will have all of the confirmation he needs.

Cheshyret’s focus is lost for a moment, as he stares down at the man he promised he would protect.

He was arrogant in a modern age he has not been in contact with for centuries. Strategies haven’t changed as much as he might think, but he wildly overestimated himself.

With a heavy ‘heart’, Cheshyret activates his recall, and his body dissolves into glowing dust that vanishes on the wind.

In the Citadel’s core, Xyreko is already waiting for him.

“I have forgiven a great deal, Cheshyret, but I won’t be protecting you this time.”

“I accept my fate. But, we must save the Archmagus Baelok.”

“Save?...” Xyreko sighs and places a palm on her forehead. She groans, “Start for the beginning. And, if you leave anything out, including your conversations with Doephluev, we’re done. I am recommending your immediate termination.”

Cheshyret nods. He needs to be quick, but he also needs more help if he’s going to be able to turn this situation around.

He just prays it’s not too late for Baelok.

***