Marcus quietly closed the door, honestly curious if the two he was here to meet would notice him. They didn't, though the four farmers-turned-mages-turned-herbalists certainly did. They bowed stiffly, glancing at their superiors with widening eyes. One made to interrupt them, but Marcus waved the man down.
"Wrong!" Gretched snapped, whacking Kleph's hand. The druid scowled at her, but the old witch spoke before he could. "Wrong, wrong, wrong. Calling yourself the Archdruid of Mirrania and you don't even know the difference between enhancing soil with magically infused blood and choking any helpful bacteria with an overload of intent?"
The Archdruid, a title Marcus hadn't actually heard before, scowled more fiercely. "Of course I know. That's why I diluted the blood with purified water and let it sit undisturbed before skimming off the small crystals. Which, incidentally, can be ground up and used for enchanting while-"
"Wrong," Gretched snapped again, somewhat kinder this time. "The crystals that form make the mixture less pure, yes, but they also unbalance the intent, taking too much of it. This isn't blood from a deer, 'Archdruid'. This is from monsters that come from the deep ocean, monstrosities so infused with magic some remains after death. Their intent is strong, but brittle. Forming the crystals is not a bad idea, but we have to let them soak in milk before adding it back, balancing the intent."
Kleph looked at her like she was insane. "Milk? You want to add milk? What in the unending Hells does milk even do?"
"It gives structure to proteins that form within the crystals, stupid boy. My great-great-great-great grandmother married a cheesefarmer, and most of what they created could be considered a war crime against common decency. But they also noted down every experiment they performed, and some of it was useful for more than making evil brie."
Well, Marcus supposed he knew just enough about herbalism and potion making to know he apparently knew fuck all about herbalism and potion making. One of the apprentices finally succeeded in drawing the pair's attention, their nervousness overcoming Marcus' desire to watch them bicker.
Oh well.
Kleph and Gretched turned, and at least the latter seemed faintly embarrassed. Kleph just bowed, either uncaring or covering any shame with apathy and confidence. Which, Marcus had to admit, worked quite well.
"So I'm guessing you two took my idea of using the increasingly organized druids to begin setting up large scale herb gardens and ran with it?"
Gretched bowed her head, though Kleph only nodded. That man really had a lot of, let's call it self-confidence. As long as he remained polite it wasn't a problem, though Marcus found it almost amusing how nothing fazed the man.
The old witch grunted. "It will keep our mages busy, and serve as a dumping ground for the more useless apprentices. Our Archdruid here figured out how to turn the excess sea monster blood into magically infused fertilizer, and we're trying to simplify the process so it can be used in the quantities needed."
Well, the fact Kleph was wildly talented did help.
Marcus smiled. "And it involves milk, evidently."
"Just one idea of several," Gretched allowed, glancing at the druid. "Kleph?"
"One idea of several."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, and finally noticed the man's stance. Nervous, and hiding it well. Keeping his talking to a minimum to avoid mistakes. Marcus primed his defenses, just in case, but the man did nothing. Just kept staring, slowly growing more nervous.
Not an assassin, then, be that as a shapeshifter or otherwise. Just anxious, apparently aware he could come across as insulting, and not wishing to insult the continent's newest Archmage. Well, Marcus could work with that.
"Keep at it," Marcus said, glancing at their work. Vials of blood, dried herbs, and what, to his amazement, looked like a bowl of milk. Milk. They'd said the word, and it still didn't quite parse. "Any problems?"
Gretched shook her head. "Nothing time won't fix."
"Then me being here is not needed." Marcus turned, moving back towards the door. Kleph breathed a silent sigh of relief, and Marcus blinked to return his perspective to normal. "Keep me informed. If you require budget increases, manpower or any other forms of help, you will let me know?"
"Of course, your Grace."
He nodded and walked out of the door, closing it behind himself. Well, that was that. Funny how half his appointments seemed to be about getting overviews of projects that didn't actually need him, these days.
Oh well. This had just been a pitstop on his actual morning plans. Which involved leaving the castle, unfortunately, but needs must.
A larger party than usual met him down at the castle gates, two dozen guards joined by seven of the Army's officers. Another four warmages as well, who bowed low when Marcus came into view. Fully folded into the Academy now, so unlike the officers, they were his.
That wasn't an official divide, but he and Elly had an understanding. She ran the army, because she was good at it, and he ran the Academy. Overlap happened, but so far it had worked out well. That did mean the warmages saw him more so than the officers, even though they were Elly's people one and all.
Irrelevant. Time to get a move on.
An hour later he was in one of the flatter stretches of unoccupied land next to Redwater, its wall rising in the near distance. Farms stretched to the right, a few thousand feet away, but here there was nothing. Just dirt, not the right soil to farm on and kept clear of any debris to avoid cover for an approaching army.
One of the many duties of the City Watch. But the City Watch wasn't here, and instead three companies of soldiers stood at attention. Three hundred men and women, their captains picked at random by a bored Elly.
Who couldn't be here, either, because she had 'important business'. Like he didn't know she was sneaking away to meditate in the most inaccessible places around. It helped her focus, apparently.
Either way, three companies. Officers to oversee the demonstration—though in truth it was more practice than demonstration—and veteran warmages to spot any issues he might have missed.
It was becoming increasingly clear Marcus' own definition of trivial was growing somewhat skewed.
Nonetheless, everyone was here. Soldiers to test his new spatial working, his first proper fifth tier spell, and everyone else to debate its tactical use. Marcus thought the tactical use would be pretty obvious, but then he wasn't a career soldier.
Still, essentially teleporting a company of soldiers a few thousand feet in any direction sounded pretty useful, in his humble opinion.
There were limits. Initial testing had made that very clear. He needed line of sight, for one, which was easy enough to ensure during testing but could be difficult in combat. He also couldn't do anything else, not even shield himself, because the spell required all five of his matrices.
But it was precise. Incredibly so. Enough that he could hopefully take his company of men and his men only, though one or two enemy stragglers wouldn't be jumping for joy if they got included. The whole thing would, in theory, allow him to rapidly move around portions of the army, either for reinforcement purposes, evacuations or otherwise.
Now to see if his theory would work, and how quickly it would exhaust him. This wasn't exactly the first test, no, but neither had he pushed his limits. And if he could only do a dozen 'shifts', then he'd been wasting both his own time and everyone else's.
The theory was sound, an- No. He was stalling.
Marcus clapped his hands together, augmenting the sound with some simple raw energy manipulation. It echoed over the plains of grass, any ongoing conversation stopping in its tracks. He boosted his voice the same way, making it stretch far further than it should. "Your officers have explained what will be happening, and I shall once more repeat the following warning; do not move after being teleported. Not until you have counted to ten. First company, you're up. Prepare to be shifted to the third marker."
The third marker. Clearly visible and roughly seven hundred and fifty feet away. It would take minutes to get there in a quick march, though since his spell currently required mostly flat terrain that was usually doable. Still, those saved minutes could mean the difference between reinforcements being on time and not.
Magic thrummed in his chest, spreading outwards in great waves. It filled his whole body, skipping and twisting as spatial intent was gathered and refined. Five matrices burned in his mind, consuming every scrap of focus he had, but because of that the actual magical cost was relatively low.
One whole matrix was used to ensure he took only what he wished, that being the soldiers and their equipment. Anything outside of that was left behind, and as more and more details gathered, the strain increased.
The moment stretched on longer and longer, but not two seconds had passed before the first stage was completed. The second was a simple security check, not taking longer than a moment, and the third ensured his target area was clear.
The spell completed, and a rush of air filled the space the soldiers had just occupied. Marcus' eyesight looked down on the arriving company, seeing a few souls stumble but nothing more. Good. He'd had to teleport them just slightly up to avoid collision with the ground. No stretch of land was perfectly flat, after all.
Marcus blinked, shaking his hand as a tingle of energy traveled through his body. And, thank the silent Gods, his calculations had been correct. The increased strain on his concentration allowed for a reduced cost, which meant the plan was a go.
He concentrated and spun up a third-tier version of the spell, and after a moment of disorientation he was next to the captain. Line of sight teleportation unlocked.
He loved that feeling. A moment of success snowballing into another, one skill branching out in a possible dozen applications. Not that line-of-sight teleportation was useful for combat yet. Too clumsy, too easily disrupted, and too slow.
But for general movement or running away? Oh yes. Very good indeed.
Marcus stepped towards the officers again, now seven hundred and fifty feet away, and enjoyed their startled flinch. Mages generally couldn't do that, because if they could, warfare would have looked very differently by now, but hey, archmage.
One of the warmages bowed, speaking up after a moment. "I commend you, your Grace. Not only will this allow companies of men to rapidly deploy to the front lines, enemy soldiers will also come to fear your presence. Teleporting them into lakes, into the sky, and morale will plummet. Pardon the pun."
Marcus nodded, a mild smile on his face, and mentally took a deep, long breath. Because, yeah. Taking a company of men and just moving them a thousand feet upwards was vastly more efficient than just moving around his own soldiers.
He really wasn't meant to be a soldier. He could play at it, but magic was his specialty. And for a long while it was wonder that drove him, not bloodshed.
Still, if the Empire ever came back, they would have to bring more than a few Legions. Much, much more. Vistus probably knew something along this line would happen, and he'd even said as much. Archmages, when just awakened, rapidly grew in power.
The other officers looked faintly disturbed about him being able to just… take whole companies like that. One after the other, until the sky was choked with falling corpses. Mages would be able to offer resistance, and the large-scale working on the spell meant he couldn't contest them, but likewise the spell was too large for a single mage to disrupt it.
As long as it was a regular mage, anyway.
Nonetheless, Marcus nodded as if that had been the plan all along, and spent the next few hours testing the limits of his endurance. As expected, he could hardly move while wielding the spell, let alone defend himself, but his guards could manage that. In return he moved the three companies around in a limited war-game, teleporting them around one another or ferrying away the losing side.
Then chasing the losing side with the winning, as one does. It was an interesting use of magic, and it was vastly more efficient than the tier five fireball he'd used. Part of that would be his attunement to space, but he'd like to think the spell itself had something to do with it.
More than just funneling power into a relatively simple elemental spell, his space matrices were overlaid. Interweaved, not a scrap of energy wasted on anything but the intended outcome.
He didn't quite cast for all those hours, since soldiers needed to acclimatize to the feeling and officers suggested possible strategies, but Marcus still wasn't quite over the joy. That feeling of sheer contentment and simple marvel he felt at casting magic of this scale.
It was enough wonder that when the sun started to lower and he needed to return to the castle, he rounded up his guards with a few words. Overruled their feeble concerns about the horses, which wouldn't take to teleporting particularly well, and grabbed them all.
The strain was lesser, and while the ground wasn't flat, a small group was far easier to place. The first jump saw a few of them stumble, though Marcus adjusted his footing more easily than expected, and by the fourth a few looked somewhat white.
Well, no matter. If he was going to teleport more frequently, then his guards better get used to it, though Xathar would still be more effective for long distances. And combat, for that matter. Having an intelligent, war-trained mount aiding him during a fight was shockingly useful.
Marcus stopped the teleporting once they got back to the castle, having used a number of the flat roofs as easy landing points while inside the city. Even the Life Enhanced soldiers started to look a little wobbly by then, but they'd adapt soon enough.
The journey of nearly forty minutes had been cut down to five, especially the ride through the city. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy that particular skill very much indeed.
He moved towards the castle gate without delay, guards slowly dispersing now that he was once again within safe territory, and very nearly ran into someone running around the corner. Short, broad-shouldered, cursing under his breath as he apologized.
Didn't look up, either, and probably assumed Marcus was just another mage. Well, no harm done, and the Royal Guard in training seemed late enough as it was. Then he caught sight of the man's wrist, if only for a second before armor removed it from view, and a light scar ran all around it.
A man with dwarven blood and a missing hand. It sparked a memory from the invasion, of reattaching said hand and the short conversation that followed. Of a soldier enlisting in the army because of policies Marcus had put in place, aiding the man's daughter in her dream to be a scribe.
It seemed the man had applied for the Royal Guards.
Best of luck, I suppose. Yonas will take good care of you.
Ah, the captain of his Royal Guards. Not a man who he spoke to often, in truth. Marcus did his job and the man did his, which required surprisingly little contact. Not like he was jumping for the chance to connect with the man, either. Vess would make sure the man remained loyal, or at least not treacherous, and that would be that.
He refrained from teleporting inside the castle, just to be polite, and slowed as he came to one of his main rooms. A larger one, usually used to entertain small groups of people. He and Elly used it as neutral grounds, which worked out well for them. But now he felt three signatures inside, and his perspective shifted.
Vess, Elly and Xathar. Marcus frowned, saw Elly glance at his viewpoint, and frowned more deeply when she let out a large sigh. "He spoiled it."
"I didn't spoil anything," Marcus replied through the door, opening it. Xathar bellowed the word 'surprise' with far too much enthusiasm, uncaring for the fact it was no longer a surprise, then curled up on the floor looking smug. Marcus shook his head. "Yes, thank you Xathar."
Elly rolled her eyes. "It was supposed to be a surprise. Who even magically alters their perspective to peek into rooms before entering?"
"People who hate surprises," he replied dryly, glancing at Vess. The succubus was holding what appeared to be a jar of powder, mumbled 'screw it', and Marcus held out his hand as she raised the thing. "No, Vess, wai-"
Vess did not wait. She threw it at the floor hard enough to shatter, and an ear screeching wail escaped from the broken jar. It filled the room, sounding very vaguely like trumpets. Marcus sighed again, more deeply, and was thankful for all the sparring he and Elly had done.
It made him quick enough to wrap himself inside a 'sense and environmental protection' shield. He also waved off the guards that had come running to investigate the sound, their response time briefly impressing him.
He glared at the demon, but Vess only shrugged. "It cost me a very nice bottle of wine to bargain for that, so I was going to use it. I'm also going to have to remove my contact's fingernails, because that did not sound as advertised."
"Just… what?"
Elly shrugged. "Surprise birthday party."
"My birthday is in a week's time," he pointed out. "And this was in no way, shape or form a surprise."
She waved her hand. "It would have been if you hadn't been a paranoid bastard. And, you said, and I quote; 'my birthday is a political affair where I shake hands with people I don't care about, receive gifts I don't want and spend half my time warding off attempts at political maneuvering'. I thought this might be nice. A small, low-stakes party where we drink too much and eat cake."
"If you get drunk on demon wine again I'm not healing you," he warned. "A week shouldn't be long enough for you to forget the consequences of that stuff. But otherwise, yeah. This is kind of nice."
Xathar grunted from where he was laying, eyes fixated on the cake. "Cease your clumsy mating attempts, bush mage. I wish to taste sugar, milk and flour arranged in new and interesting ways."
"He has a point," Vess agreed, clapping her hands. "Let's not get distracted from what we're doing here by asking questions like 'who's going to clean up the glass?' or 'why aren't there any presents?'. We're all professionals."
She strode towards the cake with a large huff, eyes flickering towards him. Which he didn't catch, because Elly was suddenly standing very close and holding a glass of wine. Marcus did not, everyone would agree, briefly lose his train of thought as she took up his entire field of vision.
"Happy birthday," she said quietly, handing him the drink. He took it, not entirely sure what to do with his other hand. "Now come on, let's get some cake before Xathar swallows it whole."
He cleared his throat, having to swallow twice before he could answer. "Thank you."
Elly beamed at him, and he realized he'd have her at his side for the 'proper' party next week.
She turned, and he realized it wouldn't be nearly so bad as it had been last year.