Seventeen days of calm travel later, the carriage trundled along as I sat contently within, a book on Cintrian history in hand. Of course, I had already read it, but a refresher would be useful if I did not wish to make a fool of myself at court.

  I had more than enough time to read. We had passed the Temerian city of Maribor only a day or so ago, which still left more than half of the distance. The roads were safe enough, a credit to the young king Foltest, or more likely to his less-incestuous father. Time would tell whether Foltest would manage Temeria better than his familial affairs.

  Travelling in a carriage was admittedly boring, but I relished the peace and quiet. Compared to the amount of studying I used to do at Aretuza, a couple of history books were nothing.

  Then I heard a thunk from the outside, followed quickly by a grunt from the driver.

  I did not think much of this, happily continuing my reading, until the carriage began slowing down.

  Confused, I called out to the driver, “What is going on?”

  I received no response.

  Reflexively petting my thigh strap hidden beneath my clothes, I drew comfort from the presence of the black diamond there. An invaluable foci for me to store power in and a graduation gift from Tissaia. It was a substantive investment on her part, one I was determined to repay.

  Adjusting the silver ring with the blue glass bead on my left hand, I turned my gaze to the carriage door, while casting a modified reflex-enhancing formula, one of my proudest achievements in spellcraft.

  “Adda invaerne,” I whispered in the elder tongue, taking my time to draw the power from the water veins which flowed deep below the earth while complex mathematical formulas flicked through my mind. No reason to waste my stored power yet.

  Immediately, the world slowed down as I felt my mind cool and my facial expression grow blank.

  Though my years in this world had been largely peaceful, I had not slacked off, doing my best to meld my past knowledge of magic with the sorcery of this world. Tissaia might have been fond of saying that magic was Chaos, Art and Science, but that still seemed like a bunch of nonsense to me. That not all of say, chemistry, could be explained by science did not make chemistry into an art, despite what contemporary alchemists claimed.

  The magic here was different though, that was undeniable. More potent and much more volatile. Unfortunately, these differences were too much for my past’s lives formulas to work properly, but their principles were still sound, allowing me to build something similar, if new. Better, using math and sufficient understanding, I could enhance the effectiveness of most spells, if at the cost of a more difficult casting. More difficult for people without great mental capacity for math, that is.

  However, the lack of computation orbs was the real bottleneck for my capabilities, as I could not cast multiple spells at once, like in my past life. Though at least it was something every sorcerer or sorceress had to contend with. Unfortunately, medieval smiths would not be producing one of those anytime soon.

  It was a considerable weakness if one every mage had to deal with. Where before I could maintain shields, fly, utilise reflex enhancements and attack, all the while keeping track of the battlefield, I was hard-pressed to do more than one of these in this life.

  That didn’t mean there weren’t workarounds. My modified reflex enhancement was one of these. Instead of having to maintain the spell as I had in my past life, I had turned it into a short-term effect, lasting a little over five minutes. My foci was another, as the ability to store power cut down casting downs to near-nothing for spells of sufficient familiarity,

  Unsheathing a dagger, I debated attempting a divination for a second, before quickly dismissing the notion. Though numeromancy had proven to be a potent tool, using it for divination was trying at the best of times. The price of wringing real numbers out of the temperamental discipline.

  This proved to be the correct decision, as something akin to a Molotov cocktail shattered over the carriage door.

  Eyes widening, I launched the door off its hinges with a burst of undirected force without even bothering to incant and jumped out of the carriage at the same time.

  The door impacted someone with a crack, but I did not see the details, as my attention upon my hasty disembarkment was immediately captured by the twang of crossbows.

  Fortunately, the reflex enhancement proved sufficient, giving me enough time to cast with a forceful whisper, “Vaeltha.”

  A shield composed of a great number of small hexagons appeared immediately. The bolts hit a moment later, sliding harmlessly to the ground.

  The sight of six men greeted me. Four wore mismatched armour common to the mercenaries of this era, three were pointing crossbows at me with wide eyes, while the fourth was twitching beneath my erstwhile door.

  The remaining two were much more concerning, wearing proper plate, if suspiciously unadorned.

  Halberds in hand, they exchanged a glance, then advanced.

  I was watching them carefully when the closer one’s eyes flickered upward.

  His mistake probably saved my life.

  I whirled around just in time to intercept a dagger-wielding assassin jumping down from my carriage’s roof.

  Parrying one of his daggers, I quickly created a small shield to intercept the other.

  A smirk worked its way onto my face, though it quickly disappeared when the shield shattered and the dagger neared my shoulder.

  Eyes widening in surprise, a few options flickered through my mind. Yet there was only one spell I could cast in time that I could be certain the blade would not dispel.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  I quickly closed my eyes and screamed an incantation, “AINE!”

  An explosion of light emanated from me, resulting in a multitude of curses as I did my best to evade the dagger, but I was too late.

  The dagger entered my shoulder, eliciting a grunt from me. My plans to capture one of them alive for interrogation disappeared like smoke. These weren’t just some random bandits.

  My enemies were, however, disoriented.

  I used the opportunity to plunge my dagger through the assassin's throat and into his head, before quickly turning around. The man’s dagger stayed in my shoulder, but he had luckily missed any arteries.

  Another of the probable mercenaries lay on the ground, clutching his face and screaming, “I’m blind! My eyes!”

  The other two were rubbing their faces, while the plate-armoured halberdiers were already rushing me. The one who had been flattened by my carriage’s door was nowhere to be found.

  I acted to replicate my earlier feat with the door, except with my assailants, but to my astonishment, the power refused to move.

  It took me a second to realise the obvious and tear the dagger out of my shoulder with a spray of blood, but by then, the halberdiers were already on me.

  Scrambling backwards, I cursed my lack of a proper weapon.

  What I wouldn’t have given for even just a pistol in that moment.

  Fortunately, magic was even better in some ways.

  “Dhu muire,” I incanted, quickly drawing power from my foci, as I dodged a swing of the first halberdier.

  Dark liquid tendrils condensed out of the air from behind the two men, quickly grabbing them both by their necks and lifting them up.

  As the two men choked, I evaded another crossbow bolt, my reflex enhancement giving me sufficient time to react, especially considering the shaking hands of the mercenary.

  A crack resounded as one of the knight’s gorget gave, the tendril bending metal and snapping his neck.

  I turned my attention to the mercenaries, leaving the remaining tendril to do its job, only peripherally aware of it as I walked past the remaining knight struggling up in the air and towards my remaining opponents.

  One of them was now crying on the ground in a fetal position, babbling something about Melitele.

  My cold blue eyes turned to the remaining two, one of whom was pissing himself if the growing wet spot on his pants was anything to go by.

  Unfortunately, I could not hold Dhu Muire and cast another spell at the same time. Dhu Muire, or the black sea, was one of my most potent, expensive and complicated spells, developed with the extensive help of Tissaia de Vries. Well, she had just wanted to keep me from killing myself at the start, but it turned into a proper collaboration eventually.

  I grinned. Fortunately, I had no need to cast anything else. Two little tendrils were hardly a sea, now, were they?

  One of the mercenaries took a step back upon seeing my grin, but it helped him little as the tendrils I had worked beneath their feet struck, grabbing their legs and throwing both men to the ground.

  It was then that I felt the tendril choking the knight behind disappear. I whirled around, spotting the knight on all fours behind me rasping for breath, some sort of shackles held in one hand.

  Narrowing my eyes, I moved towards him, my motion almost dance-like. Though I must have been worsening my shoulder injury to move like that, I felt little of it, the reflex enhancement, Adda invaerne numbing my pain among other things.

  Jumping on the man’s back, I nearly draped myself around him before slitting his throat.

  ‘Let’s see you get out of that one,’ I thought coldly.

  Returning to the mercenaries, I found one of them dead, their skull cracked by his fall. The weirdo was still muttering on the ground, while the remaining one was shakily getting up.

  “Haela,” I muttered as I let the tendrils dissipate, hand over my bleeding shoulder. The wound stopped bleeding quickly, though I knew this to be a patch job. My talent for healing was lacking to say the least.

  Before moving closer, spoke another incantation, “Vaeltha.” The shield shimmered into existence around me again, nearly invisible.

  Perhaps it was unwise of me, but this seemed like a good opportunity to gather some intel. I’d have to do it quickly before the reflex enhancement ended.

  Precautions taken, I step closer to the two still-alive men, though far enough to be out of sword reach.

  “Who sent you?” I spoke.

  The dazed’s mercenaries eyes immediately zeroed in on me, making him take a step back, “My la-lady, we, we didn’t know! Please spare me!”

  I frowned, “Didn’t know what?”

  “They, they said you were just some hedge-witch, paid good for help,” he pointed towards the two knights, “I didn’t know they’d try to kill you!”

  I almost rolled my eyes. As if he wasn’t shooting his surely non-lethal crossbow bolts my way a minute ago.

  “And who are they?”

  “I don’t know, they didn’t tell, I-I didn’t ask.”

  I focused, skimming his thoughts, but the man appeared to be truthful, though he squirmed under my scrutiny.

  Like healing, I lacked the talent to make any real use of mind-reading, but ascertaining an unprotected human's surface thoughts was not beyond me, especially when I did not care whether they noticed or not and when they were unbalanced. It was fortunate that Tissaia had never done this before I had learned to properly shield my mind, otherwise, my secret would have been exposed. Well, skilled practitioners could hide such intrusions, but had Tissaia done so, she surely would have confronted me.

  “Then there isn’t a reason for you to live, is there? Gaeth,” I responded. The mercenary’s mouth opened, probably to beg or some such, but no sound could be heard as the air around the man was no longer there, displaced by my aerokinesis.

  I wasn’t choking him to death because I was cruel, of course. It was just efficient. Displacing a bit of air wasn’t much trouble, though not very useful in a fight. Finishing a couple of wounded enemies though? It was unfortunate that he wouldn’t let me get close to slit his throat. That would have been much more humane.

  The man tried to run away, but the fall had rattled him more than he had let on. He only managed to stumble away a few meters before he fell to the ground, clawing at the dirt. Both he and his insensate compatriot stopped moving soon after.

  I turned my gaze to the carriage door, the last mercenary conspicuously absent from beneath its embrace.

  A problem, but not a big one. The escapee had seen little of my capability and I did not intend to linger for long.

  I looked around and saw no one.

  Now, with a lack of witnesses, I turned towards the nearest knight, the one with the slit throat. He was in a much better condition than the one with the crushed neck.

  “Grealghane,” I pointed at his corpse.

  It twitched soon after.

  I’ve always thought it strange why Cintra didn’t have a proper court mage before Ermion/Mousesack, this chapter is my interpretation of the reason.

  The inner workings of magic are largely going to be conjecture on my part. In the books, magic just kind of goes brrrr without much of an explanation. Mostly we just see magic done second-hand, with a rare few interludes from the perspective of mages, which however, tend to not really be about magic. Even Yennefer’s (quite beautiful) explanation of magic, the core part of which I’ve yoinked for Tissaia, in this chapter is pretty much useless for a bedraggled fanfiction author trying to glean the rules. As just letting magic go brrrr isn’t exactly a practical approach when one’s main character is a sorceress I’ll be making some assumptions. The inner workings of Cintra and the like will be similar since there is very little information available there as well. May Sapkowski forgive me.