The line of those captured was moving far too slow for her liking. Her horse stepped restlessly over and back across the rough and varied terrain, sensing her discontent. She scanned the horizon for potential assailants, her dark brown eyes flitting back and forth underneath her crimson hood, trying to detect any sign of movement or mana that could indicate an additional attack.
She had known that being out in the open, away from the protections and fortifications of the city, with only a single unit at her command had been risky. Guerrilla groups had been plaguing the area for months, and anyone within a day’s ride of the capital would have seen the descent of the “pods”, or whatever they were called, that had carried her newfound captives. That was why she, at only level 34, had been sent instead of a more high-ranking official. She was more expendable, less valuable. The notion had irked her, but the opportunity had not, and it had proved to be an exceptionally fruitful venture, despite the attack and losses.
Unbound, every last one of them.
She involuntarily grinned at her own thoughts, the joy she had felt upon her discovery temporarily returning and alleviating her concerns about additional enemies. An unbound slave was highly sought after, a blank canvas upon which you could paint anything you desired. Almost always, they were small children or infants, taken from their mothers at birth or shortly thereafter and sold off, and she had only ever heard rumors of unbound being found in their teens, coming from distant lands where the people were little more than barbarians with minimal magical education. But to have over 90 fully grown, healthy adults that were unbound to any forms was a treasure trove she couldn’t fully comprehend.
Binding them to the form of resilience was the most common choice—especially for the alchemists. They would pay fortunes for unbound test subjects, forcing them to bind to forms that made them tougher and hardier so their bodies could endure relentless experimentation. Normally, they had to wait for years, letting a child grow and strengthen before they became durable enough to survive repeated exposure to their poisons and concoctions. But this? This was a shortcut decades in the making. That was but one possibility, however, and her thoughts lingered for a while longer on all the opportunities these unbound could bring before a voice caught her attention.
“Mistress Vorn, Lord Zareth requires an update on our arrival.” It was the older mage who had been part of the group that had brought her the occupants of the pod that they had been unable to fully redirect. Her own mental mage having been killed by the rebel attackers, he had been a welcome addition, and was currently facilitating communications between her unit and a half dozen relevant parties at her request.
“Tell him that their low levels make swift transport impossible, but that they will be brought to him immediately upon our return,” she answered him curtly, not thrilled about having to respond to her Lord’s request for the third time since they began their return trip.
The older mage, she believed his name was Kaval, nodded back to her. “Very well. And has the Mistress decided how she wishes to address the situation with the village at which we are stationed?”
He was referring to the small village that the fourth pod had landed in, that apparently had been harboring a rebel spy or sympathizer that had killed one of the low-level officials that had travelled with him, before he had escaped.
“A single spy is of little importance given the value of what we have captured. Your companion may return to the village to deal with the situation after we have arrived at the Lord’s compound,” she answered, finding his continued insistence annoying.
“As you wish, Mistress, and myself?”
“You will remain in my service until such time as I am able to acquire a new mental mage,” she replied, her irritation now clear in her tone.
“Of course, Mistress,” he replied, “and the unbound who was not accounted for? I have been able to confirm that his body was not located amongst the fallen.”
Apparently, a single member of the group that had descended had not been accounted for, and his body had not been located. How Kaval was aware that this specific man, amongst the nearly one hundred others, even existed, she was unclear, but it mattered little.
“He is of no consequence, either. Even if he did escape, he will be dead within the night as an unbound at his level.”
“Very well, I shall inform the Lord that we will not be –“ the mage started before she cut him off.
“No, we have no confirmation that this individual even exists, aside from your word, and it isn’t pertinent to waste the Lord’s time with such speculation,” she spoke over him, her tone cold. While a single additional casualty or missing individual typically meant nothing in the grand scheme of the Empire, the sheer monetary value of even a single additional unbound was not something she wanted to make her Lord aware of, as it would only act to dampen the scope of her success.
“As you command, Mistress” the old man said, bowing his head from his saddle as he turned and rode off.
She turned away as he left, pulling her deep red cloak, a symbol of her Order, around her body more tightly. The air had gained a chill as the first sun fell below the horizon, but it was only a minor inconvenience, and soon her thoughts drifted back towards their captives, and the potential rewards she could expect after they returned.
---
Alar followed Seren up the stairs and down a short candlelit hallway. She had not given him a chance to answer before she had turned and headed up the stairs, so Alar took the time to think about what he wanted to ask. The hallway led to a large open space that was clearly used as a meeting area, with a large hexagonal table in the center with wooden chairs surrounding it. Candles burned from a wood chandelier above, and from within lanterns affixed to the stone walls, that gave the room a brightness and warmth despite there being no windows that he could see. Large diagrams and maps were strewn on the table, and the remnants of a quick meal sat partially finished atop a stack of parchment.
Seren glanced around the room but didn’t stop, instead walking through it quickly and to a wooden door in the rear. She opened it, revealing another small hallway that led to another door, but this one was different. The door was thick, reinforced with bands of dark iron, its heavy wooden frame fitted so tightly into the stone that not even a sliver of light passed through the edges. Faint, glowing symbols were traced along its surface, emitting a soft flickering light. Alar was about to speak, but hesitated, as Seren stepped quickly forward and immediately knelt at the base of the door, placing her hand on the lower corner. He watched as she breathed out, and felt what he assumed was mana exit her hand and fill the doorway. It was similar, but distinct from the pulses he had felt previously, and instead of a quick burst it was more like a steady stream. The door seemed to drink the mana in, and Alar watched as the symbols on the door went from a faint flicker to a warm glow.
“What did you just do?” Alar asked curiously.
“Powered the runes on the door that conceal and protect the place,” she said simply.
“So you’re bound to a Form that protects?” Alar asked, not sure how she did it.
“What? No. The runes do that,” she said, looking at him with confusion, “I just powered them.”
“But, your mana, isn’t it bound to a form?” He assumed that all mana was related to the form that someone was bound to, thereby affecting it in some way.
“Oh! No, I just used raw mana. It’s less powerful than mana infused with my form, and can really only be used to power runes, activate devices, maintain spells, things like that, but anyone can do it. You’re doing it right now.”
“Wait what?” Alar replied, taken aback.
“The linguistics spell. I assume you didn’t learn our language in a day, right?” she said.
“Well no, but –“
“So you had a linguistics spell cast on you, and a pretty good one by the looks of it. Bad ones usually don’t effectively translate idioms, or expletives very well,” she smiled as she said the last part, “without infusing it, it would have worn off within a few hours.”
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“But I don’t know how to infuse it,” he replied.
“Most infusion is subconscious, if you body or mind recognizes it as beneficial, it naturally infuses it. Same goes for enchanted clothing and armor,” she paused for a moment, “speaking of which…”
She hopped up from where she had been kneeling and doubled back through the wooden door behind them, passing through the meeting room quickly before Alar could say anything back. She walked to another wooden door, one of three that led from the larger room, and opened it. Alar followed her curiously, entering a few seconds later into what he could only describe as an equipment room. Large racks filled the walls, with spears, swords, axes and other assorted weaponry hung in neat rows. Large wardrobes and chests sat on the ground throughout, and a small wooden bench lay in the center, with what looked like blacksmith’s equipment strewn across it. She walked over to one of the chests and opened it, revealing different pieces of clothing within. She looked up at him as he entered.
“Back on your planet, what weapons do you use?” she asked, pulling out a pair of leather bracers as she did and examining them.
“I, uh, don’t?” he said back, partially confused but mostly embarrassed. Unlike earth, this was clearly a planet and culture that valued combat prowess, which Alar admittedly lacked, at least in the ways he had seen thus far.
“You.. don’t?” she said back hesitantly.
“On my planet, we don’t use weapons, at least not like these. We use guns, laser weapons, things like that, but even those are mostly used by soldiers or the military.”
“Then, how did you kill the shadow mage? Renik said you fought her off with a dagger?” she asked back, brow furrowed.
“I have no idea,” he shrugged, “I definitely used mana, and I have some basic skills in unarmed combat, but everything else was mostly… luck, I guess?”
She looked back at him, putting the bracers back into the chest and standing, brow still furrowed in thought. “No weapons on your planet… except for, guns and lasers?”
“They shoot out metal balls, or like balls of energy, from a distance, to kill people,” he had no idea how to explain the concept of a gun to someone who had never seen or used one.
“Like a bow?” she moved towards the far wall, where a number of bows were hung on large hooks from the wall.
“Kind of, but you don’t pull back a string. You just… shoot them, with electricity?” he replied, stopping her as he spoke from grabbing one.
“But without mana?” she said back, truly bewildered at this point.
“Yeah,” was all he could say back, no idea how to explain further.
She sat in thought for a while before she finally spoke again. “If you are going to travel through the Empire to the border, you are going to need to look like you belong here. Your level is already going to make people question you, and if you don’t know how to use any of these, you are going to stand out even more.”
“But you don’t carry a weapon?” he asked back, looking at her deep blue robes and slender frame. She had no scabbard or anywhere that one could reasonably hold a weapon, with only a cloth sash tying the robes at the front.
“Well that’s because I’m a mage.” she replied.
“What sort of mage are you?” he asked back.
“I am bound to the form of life,” she said immediately, a distinct note of pride in her voice.
“And that means you…” he had a guess but the term was so open ended he wasn’t entirely sure.
“Heal others, mostly, but I am working on more offensive magic, too. Strengthening people in battle, rejuvenation, even some internal manipulation,” she responded.
This made sense to Alar. To him, the idea of “life” encompassed all of those things, and probably more, and after hearing her feather analogy earlier, he now understood that the broader the Form, the more uses it had, though there were still probably some limitations or drawbacks.
“So, why can’t I be a mage?” he asked.
“Well you, I mean –“ she cut herself off after she had begun her answer, eyes turning away in contemplation, “you’re too old?”
Alar was technically well over 100 years old, counting his time in stasis, but he doubted that she knew that, or that it was what she meant by saying it. She continued before he could respond, however.
“Most mages begin their training when they are children and attend special schools or academies for years before they are able to effectively wield magic. They also usually come from nobility or the higher classes, at least within the Empire.” She said all of this with certainty, but there was still a note of contemplation as she spoke, like even she doubted her own answers.
“But its essentially a disguise for now, right? Something to make me not stand out, and I have to have some natural mana control if I was able to do the things I did back there,” he answered.
“Hmm, maybe…” she replied, apparently warming up to the idea as she thought more about it, “and you said you had some training in hand to hand combat back on your planet?”
“A bit, yeah.” Alar replied, not getting the connection.
“The only people who train in hand to hand combat are mages, or more specifically battle mages, since a lot of offensive magic is pretty close quarters,” her expression still contemplative as she spoke, “yeah, this might just work.”
She turned her attention back to the room and moved to a large wardrobe on the other side of the bench. From it she pulled a dark brown cloak with runes similar to the ones on her own robe inlaid throughout it. She then went over to a different dresser and pulled out pants, a shirt and belt, and placed them next to it. Finally, she found a pair of worn leather boots that she set next to the pile of clothing.
“Try these on. You will need a few other things before you leave, but given the state you are in, that probably won’t be for awhile.”
He nodded appreciatively and ran his hand along the runes inlaid into the cloak. They didn’t glow, but they seemed to affect the light around them in strange ways, not necessarily reflecting it, but instead almost taking some of it in.
“Thanks. How long until I recover from… whatever I did to myself?” he asked.
“A few weeks I would guess. Mana sickness can take a while, but you already being up and moving is a good sign,” she answered.
“And what is mana sickness?” Alar again had a pretty good idea already but decided on asking anyways, given it was his health they were discussing, and because he naturally intended to use mana again in the future once he understood it better.
“Normally it happens when you take in mana from an object or artifact that is too powerful for you, or channel some other source of mana of too high of level for too long. But in your case, I think that your use of ambient mana was what did it.” She looked at him appraisingly before she spoke again. “Like I said before, that shouldn’t be possible. Isn’t possible. At least based on everything I have ever been taught. But I don’t know what else explains it.”
“Okay,” he said, ignoring her comments about what was supposedly possible and focusing on the part about what caused it, “so because I used ambient mana at Level 0, it was too much for my body to handle, and I got mana sick?”
“I think so, yes,” she replied “but after your initial weakness wears off I should be able to help speed your recovery along.”
Alar nodded in response, still looking at the pile of clothes she had set out for him. He had dozens of other questions, but one specific line of questioning that continued to stick out in his mind above all the others. He didn’t particularly care if others thought his use of mana was impossible, or their reasons for thinking it. He accepted that he was unbound, and he accepted that those not bound to the Forms were supposed to be unable to use mana in certain ways. He didn’t really care. He had just learned that mana and magic existed altogether, so what was one more paradigm altering mystery added onto the others? No, what he really wanted to know about was what situation he had found himself in.
“And once I recover, your group, the Foresaken Accord, is going to take me where, exactly?” he asked.
“The Cities of Tir’Andell. They are a federation of coastal cities to the South that are large and powerful enough to be considered their own small kingdom. I am not sure to which one, there are three that are about equidistant from here, but all of them are neutral in the war, so you should be safer there.”
“Safe from the war between the Empire and?” he clarified.
“Othwyn, and some others, but the majority of the battles are on the border between Othwyn and the Empire, west of here,” she pointed, “Othwyn is the last major holdout on the continent. Everything east has already been conquered.” Her tone was somber as she spoke.
“Except Tir’Andell? Why?” he asked, confused. If the Empire had been able to conquer the majority of an entire continent, he didn’t understand how a few large cities would pose a problem or be considered a safe-haven, especially if they shared a border.
“The Empire needs their ports for their trade with other continents, especially their slave trade, and they have alliances with powerful kingdoms on almost every other continent on the planet,” she shrugged, “they’re too well connected and too useful to conquer.”
“Okay, so you bring me to Tir’Andell and then what? Is anyone going to do anything about my crew, the ones that were captured?” he asked.
Seren looked at him sympathetically, but hesitated before she answered, her hand combing a lock of her dark mahogany hair behind her ear nervously before she spoke.
“Alar… the Empire has enslaved millions of people, and killed even more than that. The Accord used your landing to attack their soldiers while they were out in the open, and exposed, but once they are back within the Capital… they are too well protected, and too powerful for us to do anything about. I’m… sorry.”
Alar sat deep in thought as her words settled over him. Everyone he had landed with was either dead or captured and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he knew where they were, he had seen only a glimpse of the Empire’s power, but was entirely certain that their weakest soldiers would be able to destroy him singlehandedly if he didn’t get as lucky as he was last time.
The way he saw it he had two options. He could leave, flee to one of these cities and try to find some way to survive; maybe find a way to contact those still in orbit on the ship, or locate where they would land next. This would be the smartest option, and he hoped that there were other places on this planet that would be safer, or more accommodating for himself or those aboard EE3 to establish themselves. What was more, he was sure that Seren or Renik would be able to give him advice on where to go next, maybe even give him some money or other resources for his journey. This could work, but there was also the second option…
“The Foresaken Accord can’t save my crew, but they are still fighting against those who took them?” Alar said contemplatively.
“Well, yes, we are an active rebellion within the Empire. Our goal is to destroy them, even if that is probably impossible,” she replied, turning her head sidelong at him as she did. “Why?”
Alar paused before he spoke, making up his mind fully before responding.
“What level do I need to be to join?”
