If there was one thing Tholm disliked about Alluria, it was that far too many people believed they had the right to be heard, spouting absolute nonsense, and that the web of power structures holding the entire duchy together actually gave them enough influence to ensure they could do so without facing serious consequences.

  “This is simply not acceptable,” Lord Balsam, a balding man with far too much self-importance, was saying as he paced back and forth across the gilded debate floor of the Alliance Manor, repeating the point he’d been trying to make for the nth time in hopes that someone, anyone, would agree with him. “The treaties are clear; we can’t allow such a congregation of religious powers to set up within our fair city, no matter the circumstances!”

  “I move that we strip him of his title and send him off to the farmland he’s trying so hard to pretend he doesn’t come from,” Mauritius the Beastmaster, a fellow Archmage and old drinking companion, muttered. Tholm had to school his expression to hide his amusement as he looked down from the high-backed seats.

  They had been trapped in the Tower-Nobility Conference for the past four hours, listening to more and more nonsensical prattle. While none of them, him included, liked the religious faction growing its presence in the city, that didn’t mean their time was so open that they could waste it like this.

  Especially not with my kids getting into it in the dungeon. I’ve set up contingencies before leaving, but that doesn’t mean something can’t go wrong.

  Unfortunately, the Tower Master had decided that a show of support from the Archmages was necessary to ensure the local nobility didn’t feel sidelined, even though they actually were, in fact, being sidelined.

  “Thank you,” a voice interrupted the ranting noble before he could loop back to his original grievance. “Your wisdom shall be taken into account for any decision this body makes,” Iona the Biomancer said, a statuesque woman who served as Co-chair of the Conference.

  The woman was probably no more enthusiastic than Tholm. Still, she was an old hand at these games despite her relatively young appearance, and her background as a distant relative of the Royal Family meant she was burdened with responsibility in these situations, since no noble with any sense would dare interrupt her.

  “Ah, yes, of course,” Lord Balsam muttered, seeming to realize he’d been talking too long, and hurried back to his seat. Or rather, he marched with all the dignity of someone at level eighty, but Tholm could see the embarrassment, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

  “I believe that is the last of the logged requests for time on the floor,” Iona said, and it was a testament to the age and wisdom of the Archmages that no one groaned in relief.

  The nobles looked at each other, perhaps hoping someone else would step up and make a stronger case for immediate intervention, but all those connected to the Tower had already spoken. Even such a discouraged group likely understood that the tepid reaction they were receiving was the best they could expect.

  Iona seized the opportunity to move on. “To conclude the 303rd session of the Tower-Nobility Conference, we will submit the motions with enough signatures for a vote.”

  Tholm straightened. Finally, this should be interesting. So far, everyone has managed to mask their intentions, but no one can hide their hand now.

  “Two motions have passed the preliminary approval,” Iona announced, which was followed by a low murmur.

  The surprise was understandable, considering that nearly twenty had been presented, but depending on the specifics of the motion, support might have been intentionally given to just two to avoid a lengthy voting session on similar topics.

  “The first motion, DB-21, titled the Goodwill Agreement, has been put to the floor for a vote!”

  Tholm immediately grabbed the booklet that appeared before him. Of course, he already knew all the details, having been briefed by the Tower Master’s assistants beforehand, but it was always good to read it a second time before voting on it.

  Once the allotted minutes for review and complaints had ended without anyone standing, Iona pounded her gavel.

  “All in favor, say aye!”

  “AYE!” Most of the crowd roared back, Tholm included.

  He paid close attention to the few who didn’t, since that revealed who was completely under the temples’ influence.

  It wasn’t like the Goodwill Agreement was even that big of a deal. It simply reinforced the spirit of cooperation between the Tower and the nobility and provided allowances for mutual support to prevent the temples from expanding their influence too far into the city, while at the same time strengthening the checks against a repeat of the Circle’s attacks.

  “The motion is passed!” Iona declared, giving a curt nod. With the Agreement in place, their work was finished, and the Tower Master now had all the freedom he needed to carry out his secret dealings with the various religions.

  “The second motion, DB-22, the Witch Hunt, has been brought to the floor for a vote!”

  Now that surprised Tholm.

  “The Witch Hunt has passed review?” Mauritius muttered, blinking down at the dark booklet that had appeared in his hands.

  “It certainly seems so,” Tholm replied, trying to piece together what had led to this.

  The Witch Hunt was an old proposal from the start of the Conference that would give the Tower and the Nobility Inquisitorial Power to investigate the presence of demons within the city.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  As far as he knew, the only demons that had been summoned were quickly killed by his more skilled student, Nicholas, and he sincerely doubted a Breach had been opened without any of the mighty Archmages noticing.

  Several people stood up to oppose the motion, and Tholm knew it wouldn’t pass this time either, but the simple fact that it had been brought up for a vote meant that powerful people were starting to get genuinely worried, and that was never a good sign.

  Only once the debate chamber was nearly empty did Tholm stand up, giving the other occupant a long look. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with platinum blonde hair and a strong chin that would be at home on a knight. The elaborate robes, woven with enough enchantments to stop a Prestige spell instantly, revealed him as something more.

  Over his many years as a mage, Tholm had been careful not to expose himself too much, knowing that compared to other, more martial men, his talents were in subtler pursuits. But as he grew older and more powerful, that caution became a chain, and only recently did he finally dare to break free from it.

  His break from neutrality had been a breath of fresh air. In the past few months, he’d made more progress toward his goal than in the decade before, largely due to the chaos that was currently gripping the region.

  But one thing hadn't gone as he’d hoped, and unfortunately, he’d have to deal with it more permanently sooner or later, even if it cost him a lot in terms of his standing within the Tower.

  “I see you’ve returned from your field trip,” Hone said mockingly, clearly knowing very well the nature of his absence.

  Tholm didn’t let his demeanor ruffle him, simply regarding his fellow with a neutral expression.

  “The Tower Master called, and I answered. The situation in Alluria has been unstable since we discovered the Circle’s presence, so it’s no surprise that the influx of priests and high-ranking clergy is causing ripples.”

  Hone snorted harshly. He was never one for long word games, which was one reason the two of them never clicked. “Let’s be done with the meaningless prattle. I’ve had enough from those whiny children already.”

  Tholm inclined his head, conceding the point. Listening to nobles a tenth of their age complain about the street in front of their manor being watched by priests was only so interesting, after all.

  “Then let us get to the point. What is it that you want?” He asked.

  “You know what I want,” Hone said. “Pull your kids back from the dungeon. It’s mine, and they will just get themselves killed trying to stop my House from taking it.”

  That was a more pragmatic request than he’d anticipated, which maybe reflected his view of his rival.

  “The King’s Edict states clearly it is to be kept open to all, until his Shadows seize the core,” he replied.

  There was a moment of crackling silence as the sheer weight of the two Archmages’ souls made itself known through their convictions alone.

  Before the building could come down, Hone grunted and shook his head. “I warned you. You’ll have to deal with the consequences of ignoring me.”

  “I guess we both will,” Tholm said at his retreating back.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should never count on a plan being perfect when Nick is involved. We’ll see if things fall into place as you expect, old friend.

  “My Lord, we’ve found another pocket,” Seth slowly announced, disheveled and tired but as proper as always.

  Eugene did his best to hold back a groan, grabbed his blade, and followed the man out of his tent.

  They were currently in the forward camp that the 14th Special Company had set up in preparation for the final push before they encountered the dwarven city.

  Unfortunately, they were bogged down dealing with pockets of demonic creatures that kept emerging whenever they tried to go deeper into the crust to threaten the main mineshafts used by their enemy.

  If Eugene hadn’t seen with his own eyes that the dwarves were currently suffering from the demons’ presence as much as, if not worse than, them, he would have thought the two forces were working together. But, despite his growing hatred for the psychics, he knew that wasn’t the case.

  “Has it been contained?” he asked Seth, who gave a brief nod.

  “Captain Sadie is currently leading the push into the chamber we believe they were nesting in, but they don’t seem to be ending anytime soon,” Seth replied.

  “At least tell me it’s not more spiders,” Eugene finally sighed, only to receive a pitiful look that made him bite back a groan.

  Over the past few months, he had dealt with various kinds of demons, most of which were insect-like in nature. While he did not claim to prefer one over the other—since all of them were abominations—he would say that the spider-like ones were far more organized and powerful than the rest.

  If this is a nest of spiders, then we might have found our Commander.

  “Any sign of the Lesser Demon?”

  Seth hesitated, visibly unsure, which was enough to tell him this might actually be it.

  “The Captain thinks it might be true, but we haven’t noticed anything different yet.”

  But Eugene was already speeding up, reaching the yawning opening of the mineshaft they had won from the dwarves in a bloody battle, and crouching down to jump. “Those bastards are too sneaky to be noticed like that. We’ll have to eliminate the entire group before we know for sure.”

  With that, he stepped into the void and plunged downward.

  Wind howled all around him as he kept accelerating, but Eugene didn’t care. His mind wasn’t even focused on the drop, which would have once been enough to break his body, and entirely on the coming battle.

  As the pressure started shifting in anticipation of the side exit, he flexed his will, and fire erupted around his feet, changing his trajectory just enough to allow him to cling to a wall. He drove his hands into the stone, carving a deep groove as he used the resistance to slow himself, finally stopping just outside the side tunnel.

  With a flex of his abdomen, he was in and rushing toward the site he remembered Leon exploring last.

  Seth and Eugene’s guard followed shortly after, using a levitation disk they had taken from the last dwarven strike group they had massacred.

  The sounds of battle and, more importantly, the horrible sensation of wrongness emanating from the demons didn’t make them wait long before they appeared.

  Eugene drew his Firestone sword from its scabbard, causing sparks to fly around him as it reacted to his [Aura], and charged at full speed into the chaos that awaited as he turned the last corner.

  Hundreds of spider-like demons crawled on every surface, each a grotesque parody of nature, with multiple heads sprouting from their torsos, countless eyes covering every available space, and fangs oozing venom so potent he knew it would eat through any enchanted plate like paper.

  He stepped through a particularly large one, vaporizing its body with the intense heat he was emitting, and aimed at a cluster that was about to overwhelm a group of his men.

  Swinging forward, Eugene drove some of his soul into the blow—the most effective way he’d found to combat the demonic corruption of mana—and roared as he made his arrival.

  An answer didn't take long to arrive. A hissed chitter echoed through the chamber, drawing his attention upward.

  Hanging from the ceiling was a massive creature, though for once, it was somewhat less hideous to look at. Similar to an arachne, the demon had the body of a large, mutated spider and the torso of a woman, ending in a face that was a blend of the two, skittering through the stalactites.

  Fighting her was Sir Leon, who was visibly flagging, and nearby were several silk cocoons, which Eugene realized with dread likely held more of his men.

  White fire burst all around him in response to the surge of emotions, and he lunged upward, slamming into the demon with enough power to vaporize a regular demonic creature.

  This one, however, was more resilient because it barely skidded backward, exhaling a poisonous stream onto the flames that clung to its chitin to extinguish them.

  “Looks like you need a hand, old boy,” Eugene roared, feeling the excitement of battle grow despite the nature of the enemy.

  Leon grunted, never taking his eyes off the demon. “I didn’t actually think I’d find it.”

  Eugene was about to shoot back a witty joke when the arachne surprised them by opening its maw and speaking. “It is good of you to have come here, Man of Fire. You have saved me a trip to extinguish your life afterward.”

  Despite dealing with demons for the better part of two months now, Eugene had to admit that he hadn’t expected one of them to talk back.

  His lips curled in disgust as he looked at the creature, and the fire on his sword grew stronger in response.

  “Well, my friend,” he told Leon, “I think we’ve found your Challenge. Once you kill this thing, the System will doubtlessly grant you a Prestige Class.”

  Leon’s eyes widened. He’d been stuck for the past few weeks, unable to gain more experience since he’d hit the level cap.

  A new fire lit his expression as he looked at the Lesser Demon with a hunger fitting a dragon.

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