The Runic Alchemist

After finishing his breakfast, Damian walked back to his 'supposed' room, which now had a change of clothes in his size in the corner. He accepted them graciously and then began practicing the strange binding/truth-exposing spell he had been enduring for days. Of course, he didn't finish it; otherwise, he would collapse again. The multi-element insertion part was particularly hard to control.

Usually, he dealt with just one element at a time, which required no control—he could simply fill it completely. This was the first time he had realized just how unnecessary it was to waste mana in this manner.

If he could master it and fill all his runic circles with just enough elemental mana to their limits without wasting any, his spells could see a significant boost in efficiency, and his mana would last longer.

He was also thinking of ways to sever the link while practicing. The best method would be to try fulfilling the requirements Vidalia had revealed for her original spell. But who was the captor, and who was the source here? To make it work, they would have to expose their minds for a prolonged time, which was not a pleasant thought.

Not to mention, he would have to tell her that he had stolen her precious grandmother's spell.

After hours of constant practice, which felt like only ten minutes to Damian, the guard soldiers came to get him. Most likely, the commander wanted to go somewhere. He found her on the way, flanked by her followers. Damian and the two men with him joined behind them as they reached one of the rooms that looked almost identical to the many others he had seen in this confusing place.

She gestured for the others to leave. Only the two queen's guards and Damian remained with her.

Without a word, the female knight opened the door for her lady, and all three entered with their usual proud walk. Damian just hoped to achieve their level of swagger one day. For now, he trailed behind lazily, trying to figure out where he was. It was the same room where they had that pointless after-battle meeting, but the knights and second-rankers had yet to arrive.

"Keep your mouth shut this time..." she ordered as she sat on her padded throne-like chair.

He was to be her cupbearer again? Shouldn't she be afraid that he might blow them all up?

Sighing—he was sighing a lot these days—he picked up the decanter and checked the cleanliness and quantity of the wine, then examined all the guest glasses, finding none with any faults. He was taught to do this, and prisoner he may be but when he did something he did it perfectly. One by one, the same people returned, now in much better armor and clothing than the day before, their faces refreshed.

He filled all the cups, leaving those who refused, and stood to the side trying his best to melt with the shadows as he noticed many of them look towards him weirdly.

He noticed that most of them gave him odd looks when they thought he couldn't see. What was that about? Some also looked at their lady with concerned eyes, now that made sense.

"Did my lady had some..." the old veteran female knight began, but the commander cut her off.

"I am glad that many of you are concerned for my well-being, but I am fine. Yesterday was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Let us continue..."

Her words were phrased nicely, but her eyes made it clear that the matter was closed. They all nodded, either in understanding or servitude. After that, they began their usual banter, discussing various topics, none useful right now with an army at their doorstep.

"Lord Avery sent a report last night with his fastest scout. I was stationed at the nearest checkpoint at that time, after which the messenger was incapacitated for further travel..." Lord Tristan said after they had been talking for about twenty minutes.

Was this a something to reveal after 20 goddamn minutes..? Why didn't he start with that..?

"Was he injured?" the commander asked.

"No, he just exhausted himself and had some light injuries from the fast traveling methods."

"What's the report?" the old veteran asked.

"The Ashenvale host is just five days from here now..."

"What?"

"We must prepare immediately."

"How are they traveling so fast? Did he figure out their method?" Aramis asked, raising a valid question.

"Yes, he described a dark blue glowing orb of some kind. They were using it by pouring their mana into it. It sounds like a runic device..." Lord Tristan reported.

"No.., No man-made thing can hold so much mana to open waygates. This must be something natural..." said one of the lords, dressed in casual clothes with a robe on it, who had a pretty impressive level of mana, most likely a mage class.

"A dungeon relic, perhaps?" guessed one of them, but no one replied, all contemplating the possibilities such an item might hold.

"Was Threadripper there?" the commander asked.

"Yes, they had to make a hasty retreat from afar with too many Ashenvale scouts in the way, but it was confirmed that he was there."

"Suggestions?" Lady Vidalia asked.

"Retreat is still an option. We can always push them back with Bonecrusher's help..." The foreign knight reiterated her point from yesterday, which hardly anyone considered. None of the others replied, making various faces at her.

"Gather all our troops and make a stand here at the passage entrance..." Aramis suggested.

"They want to go past us, not come for us. We are just in their way, not their main target. They wish to wreak havoc in our border region..." The old female veteran countered.

"That's the only way. Otherwise, we fight their 50,000 with our barely 35,000, still keeping some for checkpoint post duty..."

"Or," Lord Tristan spoke a bit louder than the others, immediately grabbing everyone's attention, "We do what the kid suggested—block the entrance and defend against the unnatural waygates until Bonecrusher arrives. It will buy us some more time..."