Chapter V

Three weeks passed, with Edric and Laurence working closely together in order to work out the logistics of their expedition. In that time, many would-be adventurers and mercenaries-for-hire showed up at the castle, declaring their intention to join the expedition. Most of them fell short of both Edric and Laurence’s expectations, however a few showed good promise: Viktor von Hattenberg, a Brennian knight errant with a reputation of winning several tournaments around the southern and eastern kingdoms; Leuconia d’Luteia, a Maverian gnomish hunter with extensive experience of the southern and western areas of Menatir; and Eberhardt the Stout, a Castian dwarf warrior-priest of the Order of the Eight Spokes, a knightly order dedicated to the worship of Thamun. 

These three stood out from the dozens or hundreds of other interested parties due to either their martial prowess, strength of will, extensive knowledge, or some combination thereof. Having declared their selection, Edric and Laurence thanked the other would-be adventurers for their interest and expressed their condolence for having made such a long trip to the Arden capital, and sent them on their way. Through such a process, and the longer that the two of them worked together, Laurence grew to respect Edric for both his ability to read people, and their worth and intentions, all without giving anything away. He was a master of his craft, and while he could never trust the Inquisition as a whole, he could not refrain from admitting that the institution would be in good hands if and when he ascended to the position of High Inquisitor.

The more planning that the two of them delved changed Laurence’s mind as well. When considering the length of the journey, likely several months, and the provisions required as well as the environments necessary to cross, he began to see the wisdom of sending a smaller party instead of the large army he had initially called for. Simply crossing the Anboian Mountains or the Maraban Desert would be an arduous effort, and moving even a few thousand men-at-arms and knights across them would be a feat of logistics only the greatest generals in the history of Menatir could have accomplished.

Laurence sat at his desk, reading over the reports of the conditions outside the kingdom that could potentially affect their journey. Most worrying were the reports of the raising of levies and troop movements within Maveria and Tahne. While Laurence felt no concern that either kingdom was any threat to moving on Arden itself, a war along the route they would have to take to the Gallangir Forest would make an already perilous and long journey that much more impossible. Of course, they could take the longer route through either the Kingdom of Anull or through the eastern plains and up through Maveria, but either would add weeks to their journey, and either way they would have to pass through potentially dangerous areas. Going through Anull would mean eventually having to cross Tahne anyways, who were never particularly friendly to the Ardenese, or the Maverian plains, would could easily become flooded with Tahnian or Maverian cavalry, who would either kill them simply as potential combatants, or who would execute them as spies.

Looking over the map in front of him, he traced the various possible routes with his finger, and then shook his head.

“No,” he thought, “the only way is just up through the Gaulstone Pass and then along the frontier, danger be damned.”

Just then, the door to his study opened and a young man came inside. He had dark skin and short, curly black hair and was dressed in the robes of a Sage Novitiate. Laurence looked up at him and smiled warmly.

“Ah, Philippe, you’re here. Please, come in, and shut the door behind you,” he said, and gestured to the man to sit after the door closed. Philippe made his way over to his mentor and sat at the chair opposite him at the desk.

“You summoned me, Master Laurence?” the man asked, the puzzle in his voice evident.

“Yes, my boy, I did. You see, after planning the expedition these last few weeks, I’ve wanted to discuss something with you,” Laurence said, pausing a moment before continuing. “You are nearing the end of your studies and I must say, you are one of the finest students I have ever seen, let alone had the honor to teach myself,” he said. Philippe simply bowed his head acknowledgement and gratitude.

“With that in mind, I think you are ready to take the final tests to become a full-fledged Sage, and I have no doubt that you would excel at them, even break the Council’s records,” he said, and again paused for a moment, allowing Philippe to interject.

“I thank you so much for your confidence in me Mas-” Philippe said, but Laurence raised his hand to silence him.

“That would be, if you were actually going to take them,” he said, and Philippe’s expression turned to one of shock and confusion.

“I’m confused, Master, why would I not take them? I’ve given my life to the Council, should I not be allowed to join their ranks?” he asked incredulously. 

“Oh you will, my boy, all in good time. The reason you won’t be taking the tests, however, is simply that you will not be here to take them,” he said, but the confusion stayed with Philippe. “I want you to accompany me on the expedition to Gunn-gehad,” he continued, dropping the hammer on Philippe, and making him look even more in shock than before, something Laurence didn’t think was possible.

“You… Wish me to come with you? To the fabled city? Are you being serious?” he asked, slowly releasing every word as his brain tried to comprehend the gravity of the request Laurence was making of him.

“Of course I am, I would never lie to you about something like this. You have the potential to be a great Sage, maybe even better than myself. Because of that, it is only fitting that you see one of the greatest mysteries Menatir has to offer, not to mention the land of magic that by itself is one of the most beautiful sights anyone could ever hope to lay eyes upon,” Laurence said. The realization finally hit Philippe, who stood and then knelt before Laurence, bowing his head.

“Thank you Master, of course I will accompany you. Thank you for this honor!” He said, but Laurence stood up himself and pulled the man to his feet. He placed his hands on Philippe’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Please, my boy, do not treat me as some royalty who needs to be genuflected towards. Upon our return, you will be made a full Sage and then we will be much more peers than you realize, and I for one, will welcome you with open arms as part of the future of our order,” he said, and Philippe nodded in return.

“Of course, Master. I will see that your faith in me is not misplaced,” he said. Laurence squeezed his shoulders tightly.

“I know it isn’t, and I know that you will make both myself and the Council more proud than we could have ever hoped for you. Now go prepare your things, my boy. We leave by next week, and I expect our journey will take us several months at the very least. I will summon you again when we are ready to begin our journey,” Laurence said, and released Philippe’s arms, gesturing towards the door. Philippe stiffened and bowed his head, and then turned and left the study, the excitement in his demeanor detectable in his every step.

As Laurence returned to his desk, his vision began to spin. He stumbled forward, grasping the edge of the desk as his vision became even more blurry, while violent coughing began to wrack his chest. Losing his balance, Laurence fell to his knees as his vision began to leave entirely, before he blacked out and fell onto his side, accidentally dragging several tomes and papers to the floor with him as he fell.