Agnes walked along the carpet that was rolled out up to the throne, wooden tables stood in line, each one with piles of papers on them, and maids trying to sort the mess.
There were pots with melted wax, and a flame underneath, ready to get poured onto an envelope, and pressed shut with a stamp featuring a peacock.
The whole atmosphere seemed to be tense, they were rushing, trying to push against the endless onslaught of paper.
Some needed checking, others a signature, and then some needed a reply, those were the worst of the bunch.
The more important the sender, the more time Cykrus needed to formulate an answer.
Letters, contracts, requests, and reports, all were mixed throughout the piles.
Cykrus was behind a large desk just below the throne, his back arched, and his face nearly touching the fresh ink he was writing with.
"We are gonna need a hundred more of those…" he sighed, then pulled on his hair.
He had dark bags under his eyes, and his hand was trembling from his extensive scribbling.
"I think what you need is a break." a voice spoke into his ear.
Cykrus continued without batting an eye, "Not now, I still need to finish a few more today…"
"And you should stop pulling on your hair, you'll go bald." the source of that voice grabbed his hand.
He wiggled his hand to get it loose, completely engrossed in his letter, "Eh, I don't think I'd mind."
"You might not, but what would your subordinates think, what about Agnes?"
Cykrus frowned, for the first time in a while his quill got some rest, "Agnes?" he managed to tear his attention away from the paper and looked up, "Agnes!"
He rose from his seat, bumping into the desk, knocking over one of the heaps.
Agnes reacted quickly, reaching for some papers that got sent flying, but as she grabbed a handful, she got locked up in an embrace.
"You are back." he said.
"I am back." she said.
"I worried you wouldn't."
Agnes exhaled, "I'm sorry. Even if it was risky, I felt I had to go."
Cykrus let go of her, "You look bad."
"You look worse." she countered.
"No, I'm fine. Just a little overworked… what happened to you?"
Agnes scoffed, she had told the guards that she was fine, just to get them off her back.
Now Cykrus was trying the same on her.
"It's a long story but look!" she stepped aside.
Cykrus' eyes went wide, "…Frey."
He studied the boy, 'Well, boy doesn't cut it anymore, does it?'
Cykrus set down the quill, then approached his disciple.
"Master." Frey wasn't sure how to react, so he bent his knee.
Cykrus felt weird, they hadn't known each other for long, he hadn't been able to fully put his trust and faith into Frey, and he had sent the young boy to a foreign plane, one of the most dangerous places a mage could imagine.
He saw scars on Frey's arms, shoulder, and back, the tattered clothes he was wearing, as well as the putrid smell that covered him.
But here he was, kneeling before him, calling him master…
Cykrus turned his head to Agnes, who was staring at him expectantly, then he shifted back to Frey.
He scratched his scalp, then placed his hand on Frey's head, "I'm proud of you for surviving. Welcome back."
"You did well, reaching rank two."
Frey cupped his fist in response, "Congratulations on becoming rank three, and a Marquis, master!"
"Thank you. I guess Agnes already clued you in on some events." Cykrus gestured at the maids in the hall to leave.
Frey looked up at him, "The competition…"
"Mhm?"
"The majority were killed in the swamp." Frey continued.
Cykrus drew a sharp breath in surprise.
It was obvious something had gone wrong when the portal to the plane inexplicably closed under the church's nose, but the expedition getting wiped out?
Cykrus felt a mix of shock and glee.
'A move that harmed all the families and shifted their opinions of the royalty into the negative at once, incredible.' he smiled for a second.
"After a result like this I would wager the king abandons the competition entirely." Cykrus rubbed his chin.
"Even if he doesn't, Frey is the reason there are any survivors in the first place, I'd say we passed with flying colours." Agnes chimed in.
Cykrus raised his eyebrow at her, then at Frey.
"Trust me." Agnes confirmed.
"If you say so." he nodded.
Cykrus trained Frey one on one, he had a good grasp on his strengths and weaknesses, for Agnes to praise him so, he must have had some growth in that plane.
Not to mention that he survived, when 'the majority', as Frey called it, didn't.
Cykrus stepped back behind his desk, he stretched his hands and arms, then yawned, "I can finally quit delaying the invasion on the Ironhoofs, now that you are back."
"Though I'm not sure if I should be happy about that, since I am jumping from one hassle to the next."
"You can't imagine how much the king's army has been pestering me for us to mobilize and meet them beyond the border."
"Of course, they aren't considering the consequences for us if we leave the city undefended. Typical for people that are used to going wherever they please with no repercussions."
Agnes flashed a pained smile, "You have much on your shoulders since becoming a Marquis."
"Yeah, and it's not like I wanted the title… but whatever, what's done is done. It would just be nice to have someone trustworthy to take care of all of this in my stead." Cykrus gestured around.
Agnes took it all in again, "Why are you even working in here, what about your study?"
Cykrus covered his eyes with his palm, "My study has been transformed into a storeroom, the only way to work in there is by stepping over uncountable letters."
"Master." Frey spoke up.
Cykrus couldn't see the boy past the stacks of paper, "And please get off the ground. It does feel kind of gratifying, but we don't need all this fanfare when it's just us."
"Yes, master." Frey rose, "I wanted to ask, why are there so many people from the church going around the city? I mean, there are a lot of people in general, but I noticed them a lot."
Cykrus let himself fall into his seat, "I made a deal with the church. Priest Simerlin offered support against the Ironhoofs, and I accepted, not knowing that the king would send me troops too."
"Now they are here in Aventia, an unexpectedly good turn of events, considering that we lack the manpower to keep the whole city safe and under surveillance."
Agnes crossed her arms, "Can we trust them?"
"For now, yes. We'll have more options after annexing the Ironhoof lands."
"Agnes, can I task you with keeping Aventia safe while I am gone? Also, Frey, you should come with me, experience warfare." Cykrus looked at them, "I am not sure how accustomed you've become to being rank two, but it shouldn't hurt either way."
"About that…" Agnes coughed.
"Master, I want to go visit my village." Frey spoke.
"And I can't use any magic." Agnes followed up.
Cykrus sunk into his chair, "…what…"
He held out his hand, "One second Frey." then stared at Agnes, "What do you mean 'you can't use any magic'?!"
Agnes held up her arm and pointed at the strange wounds, then her face, her legs…
No matter where Cykrus looked, he found an inescapable void that drew in his eyes, becoming worse the longer he looked.
"I fought some sort of thing in the swamp, in my mind. I ended up winning, but it's now a total wreck." she told him.
"Your inner world?" Cykrus asked.
"Inner world?" Agnes and Frey said in unison.
"Is that what it's called?" Agnes continued alone.
Cykrus nodded, "As far as I'm aware, but I doubt I know enough to help you…"
"It's alright, I am sure we'll find a way."
Cykrus shook his head, "No that's bad, if I leave now, that will put the city in danger."
Agnes tilted her head, "Kind of… but nobody else knows that I can't use magic."
Cykrus considered her suggestion in silence.
The world already knew that he and Agnes were rank three mages, they would soon learn that Frey was rank two as well… even if he left, wouldn't the others be enough of a deterrent?
"And on the off chance that someone takes the risk and attacks? What's our plan then?" Cykrus threw his question into the room.
"Hm… what about the church? You once told me that attacks on us would also be attacks on the church. Who would want to aggravate them?" Agnes said.
"That's true." Cykrus nodded, "In the end, it's not like I can delay much more, I've already been testing the royal army's patience as is."
"Then it's decided."
"Frey, about your request, you are free to go. Tell the retainers to prepare some rations, and a horse… you do know how to ride, no? And don't forget that you represent Aventia, behave with that in mind."
Cykrus sighed, "When all this has blown over, we should sit down together. A shame it can't be now, but there is no helping it."
Frey thanked him, then shuffled off, he was too restless to stay still for even one more day.
"And take a bath before you leave!" Cykrus shouted after him.
Agnes waited until he was gone before speaking up, "Is this a good idea?"
"I was expecting you to support his decision?" Cykrus responded.
"I do. But maybe now isn't the best time for that…"
"Maybe not, but you saw his face, he is determined. Do you know how long he will be gone for?"
"He wants to see what happened to his village, to his parents, to get some closure. I wouldn't expect him to stick around for too long."
"Good. When he is back, we'll have someone here to defend the place."
"You keep bringing that up, are you expecting an attack?"
"Knowing what I do, there wouldn't be a better time." Cykrus folded his hands, "Now back to you, tell me more about your condition, about what happened."
Agnes shook her head, "I don't think you have the time to focus on my problems too."
"Your problems are my problems." he looked her in the eyes, "I have a lot on my plate, but the more I know, the more I can reach out to others and ask."
"We have allies too, you know, not just enemies." he added.
Agnes closed her eyes, "And two of them are out of commission right now."
"Vivienne and Daren? Those two are monsters, whatever happened, they'll recover soon enough. Also, as a duchess, the royal family has her wellbeing as a priority. They'll get the best treatment." he waved her concerns off.
She sighed, "You remember the staff?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it-"
"It's gone. There was also some sort of dagger-"
This time Cykrus interrupted her, "Curved blade, with strange engravings on it?"
"Yeah, how did you know?" she narrowed her eyes.
"Because I gave that one to Frey."
"That was yours?!"
"Yeah? What about it?"
Agnes stared at him with disbelief, "Does the name 'Plamus' ring any bells?"
"Plamus? Starhelm? The boy that also entered the competition?"
Agnes nodded, "From what I've been told, that dagger supercharged Plamus and caused him to kill like 80 percent of the expedition. He is also the reason I have these wounds."
Cykrus recoiled, "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"But he is dead now?"
"I think so. Definitely seemed that way to me. But it also wouldn't be the craziest thing he did, if he isn't." Agnes recalled some scenes.
Cykrus went dead silent, his face turned ghastly, "Agnes, no one can ever find out that the dagger belonged to us. No one."
"What was that dagger?" she whispered.
"It was an artefact my ancestors left behind, and other than its effect, I knew next to nothing about it. How did it end up in that guy's hands?" Cykrus held his forehead, "I guess only Frey knows."
He turned back to Agnes, "You were saying?"
"So, I am not sure what happened on the outside, but the fire, wind, earth and water that I had been supressing in my mind thawed out."
"They tried to drown me out, but luckily, I managed to claw my way back. One thing led to another, and then the dagger fused with the four elements, destroyed my 'inner world', as you call it, and created some kind of red rune."
Cykrus' brows furrowed, "A red rune?"
He fell into thought, then shuffled through the stacks of paper, looking for an unimportant letter.
His quill returned to action, as he drew something from memory.
"Back at the capital, when the competition had freshly started, I met someone below the royal castle. He showed me something he called 'chaos magic'…" Cykrus recounted, as his hand moved to form lines and shapes.
"It was… it was dark red, I believe-" Cykrus squinted his eyes, trying to squeeze out details from his mind, "and it kept changing-"
"Yes, it does keep changing…" Agnes nodded at him.
Cykrus glanced up at her, causing the quill to strike through the design by accident.
Then he looked back down, he bit his lip, he was no artist, and this mistake didn't help, but both him and Agnes had this subtle feeling, they were talking about the same thing.
Cykrus' hand slowed, since the rune didn't have a set form, there was little use in continuing his drawing.
He met and held Agnes gaze.
She was a strong woman, rarely afraid of anything, but quick to bottle up her emotions.
Without magic, any single mage would feel vulnerable, they would revert to strengths equalling regular humans.
Most would feel distressed, yet even such an uncertain situation couldn't break her.
"This person you met, what exactly did they say?" Agnes spoke first.
"That chaos magic was several elements combined, now I guess we know which." he placed the drawing on top of his pile of work, "As well as that his master 'Calamor' created it and ended up becoming a god, back when Astafor ruled as king of humanity."
"A god…" Agnes marvelled.
"I doubt that there's any way of finding out, but what you have now might be the leftovers of his inheritance." Cykrus salivated at the prospects.
"Did he say anything else? If he called this 'Calamor' master, surely, he knows something… Wait, how old is the person you spoke with?" a realisation hit her, "Wasn't Astafor like the great-great-great-grandpa of the current king, or something?"
Cykrus scratched his head, "Well, he looked like a young boy, maybe Frey's age at the time, or a little younger, but said he had been around for 500 years."
"500 years?" Agnes raised her brow, "Is that possible?"
Cykrus shrugged his shoulders, "The gods also have unnaturally long lifespans, so who knows."
Then shook his head, "But other than that, even he knew very little about chaos magic."
Agnes fell into thought, then lifted up her finger, "How about we go and meet him? If he sees me and my condition, he might remember something!"
Cykrus frowned, "… I don't know…"
"Well, if not him, who else has ties to a god from over 500 years ago? This might be our best bet." Agnes gestured wildly.
"Of course, but that's not what has me worried. The royal castle isn't a place you can just waltz into. Without an invitation or the likes, you'll either get stopped by the many guards of various ranks, or get branded a criminal and hunted for forcing your way in."
"Not to mention, that there is some sort of restriction on the entrance to this person. I managed to enter because the mechanism recognised my blood and believed me to be my ancestor."
"Hm." Agnes went quiet.
"We might have to wait for an opportunity to present itself."
Cykrus closed his eyes as he continued, "Or… we could send a formal request to King Lysander, though I would prefer not to inform the world of our troubles, or your inheritance. There is no telling what kind of dangers rumours of a rank six inheritance could invoke."
"Already claimed or not." he added.
"I agree." Agnes sighed.
Both nodded at the other.
Discretion was required at this point in time, especially for as long as Cykrus was out.
"Telling Frey is fine though, right?" Agnes eyed him.
"Right?" her eyes narrowed.
Cykrus rubbed his forehead, "Frey is my disciple… of course we can tell him…" with barely a tinge of reluctance, almost unnoticeable... almost.
He pointed at the stacks of paper, "While I am gone, would you-"
"Not a chance." she crossed her arms and shook her head.
"Well, I tried." Cykrus sighed.
Agnes scoffed, "I'm not made for that stuff. And trust me, you don't want me to write letters in your name."
"While you are gone, I'll look into this 'Calamor'. Maybe there are some records of him with the church." she continued.
"Good point."
Agnes waved her hand, "Let me know before you leave." and headed for the door.
Cykrus reclined in his seat, his eyes wandered up, staring holes into the ceiling.
"…A god's inheritance… huh…" Cykrus talked to himself, "Maybe I've been underestimating the value of the Land of Fog."
"All the more reason to root the Ironhoofs out."
"Although… they've been strangely quiet since my fight with Simon. Also, with Agnes killing Fraten, and Charles."
"Can't they just roll over and die?"
Cykrus closed his eyes, basking in the silence of the hall.
There have only been few chances for him to rest in recent times, and he would soon depart for the next battlefield, every moment of peace was welcome, even if it meant neglecting his papers.
"My lord." the bang of a metal glove against chest-armour pulled Cykrus out of his absent-minded state.
"Yes?" he peered over the stacks of paper.
The guard lowered his head, "Priest Simerlin is waiting by the gate outside, and is requesting to meet with you. How shall we proceed?"
"What a coincidence…" Cykrus mumbled, then cleared his throat, "Have someone escort him here."