Noble Arcana

Those who believe the creation of life is solely the domain of the gods have never worked a farm.

The Laborer

Solomon found himself unable to sleep that night. His mind was too filled with thoughts of magic and his dreams were of dark forests he could not be certain he ruled or ruled him. He crept from his room quietly and made his way to the library in the dark. Once inside he locked the door and approached the suit of armor. Rather than having it move he simply opened up its faceplate.

“Excuse me,” he said as he did it. Inside it was too dark to make out the symbols within it so he returned to the desk and lit a candle before returning to look at it. He recognized the runes for blood, open and control, as well as several Drakthic words mixed in with orcish, and elvish. There was a glow to the armor that let him see the mana, but it didn’t seem to flow throughout it, rather it seemed concentrated at certain points throughout it. He returned to the desk and grabbed a piece of paper. He took the time to write each symbol and word he didn’t recognize, slowly filling. He yawned as he finished, folding the paper and tucking it into the inner pocket of his robe.

He returned to the suit of armor with a tired smile and gently placed the faceplate back down.

“Thank you for your time.”

He stretched a bit and blew out his candle, letting his eyes readjust to the darkness before he walked back out into the hall. He was walking slowly when he stopped. He wasn’t alone. In the darkness he could see a figure staring out the window. Based on the silhouette it seemed to be a woman. Her hair was down and she had one hand pressed against the glass.

Not wanting to frighten them, Solomon coughed loudly before he got too close. She didn’t respond.

“Hello?” He said, taking a few steps closer. The moon was barely a sliver, but as he closed in on her he realized who it was.

“Felicity? Are you alright?”

She didn’t respond, still staring intently out of the window.

Solomon moved closer until he was only just a few feet away. He looked out the window to see if she was looking at something in particular, but saw nothing. He looked at her eyes and they seemed to be vacant and unfocused. She was still asleep? He’d read of this. It wasn’t uncommon for those who’d experienced traumatic events to walk in their sleep.

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her. She didn’t respond, so he shook her a bit harder.

Felicity blinked, the focus coming back into her eyes and she jumped away from him, hitting her shoulder against the wall as she did so.

“It’s okay,” said Solomon. “I think you were just sleepwalking.”

Her breathing was fast as she clutched her shoulder. She kept her eyes downward, avoiding his.

“I’m sorry, lord.” Her voice shook as she spoke.

“It’s okay. Return to your chambers and get some sleep.

She bowed and quickly fled back to her room.

Solomon shook his head and looked out the window for a few moments. When next he visited the Morrow estate he’d have to pay his brother Jude a visit. The damage he’d done to this girl… Perhaps he’d send him flying off a balcony with a gust of wind. He couldn’t attack him directly, but he seemed to have more and more indirect ways of taking action as he learned.

When he was sure that Felicity would’ve already made it back to her room, Solomon made his way back to his own. He was finally feeling tired enough to get some sleep.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

…

The next several days were spent in the same routine. Solomon would be awoken by Melissa and given his coffee and breakfast. He would review the papers and respond to any correspondence he’d received. After that he’d go into town where he would work with Feist on planning the road repairs and expansions and begin the preparations for the new census. Once that was done he would ride back and check with Melissa on how the workers were doing before having lunch and retiring to his library.

This part of the day felt like torture to him. He had to fight to maintain his focus on his normal day to day activities. He wanted to simply disappear into the library for days and focus on exploring the repository and continuing his experimentation with new spells. Part of this was because he knew the risk of the Lord of the Black Wood remained, but there had been no sightings of anything by the increased guard patrols and local trappers and hunters had even started to enter and leave the wood again without issue. Even Colm himself had made a trek with the help of his son and checked all of his traps with no issue.

Solomon did not appreciate having to force himself to focus. His ability to maintain his attention on all the matters he needed to without issue had been a point of pride for him. He didn’t have Chorde’s inheritance, Jude’s looks, or Vaughn’s strength, but he had his mind. He’d realized early on that maximizing his mental abilities was the only way he’d be able to compete, and so far since his father had died he felt he’d been proving that. Now that magic had become involved it seemed like that’s all his mind wanted to cling to. Perhaps he was more like his Uncle Victor than he’d realized.

Once he reached the hidden chamber within the library, Solomon felt himself release some tension. The icy chill that seemed to randomly infest the house settled over him, but he had begun to feel comforted by it. He moved over to the desk and grabbed his scalpel to reopen the prick on his thumb and fed each pot two drops of blood. Once that was done he filled two more vials with blood. He was up to ten that he was keeping stored, and four he kept on his person. He then moved over to where he’d moved the links of the chain onto his desk. He grabbed one and placed it carefully in the center of his desk. He then took the small hammer and chisel he’d borrowed and very carefully began to break it into smaller, jagged pieces. Once that was done he placed all of the fragments into a bowl to his side. He could only work on one at a time before the drain on his mana started to make him feel ill.

Over the last few days he’d found that he could handle them with gloves to increase the amount of time it took for them to drain him. He also discovered that they could remove the mana from the blood he’d infused if they came in direct contact with it. They could not however, effect the mana through the glass vials. That was interesting to him, as he could infuse them with more mana even if they were sealed in the vials.

Once he was done with the chain fragments he made his way past the dead god’s corpse and placed a hand on either side of the cloudy orb that transported him into the puppets within the repository. He’d had some very bad luck over the last few days. He’d lost one puppet when it had turned into a tree after unfurling a green scroll, and he’d spent two full days attempting to decipher a scroll which he could only identify the rune and elven word for flame on. He’d managed to find a dated drakthic to elvish dictionary from Sebastian’s Rare Volumes that had helped him through the process. It had turned out to be a spell of cease flame. It would be very useful in certain situations, but he had hoped for something offensive to turn against the spirit in the woods.

Just as he was about to pour mana into the orb he heard a cracking sound. He removed his hands from the orb and walked back. The chamber was still sealed. He heard the noise again and realized it was coming from one of the pots. It had been a week, but since he’d begun the creation of the homunculi in the late evening, he’d anticipated having several more hours. He approached the pot and watched the dirt start to stir. After a few moments, a small arm broke the surface and then another, and then the tiny figure pulled itself up. It looked up at him and gave a cheeky salute.

Solomon raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected them to have much personality. He held out a hand and the small figure leapt onto it. He brought it closer to his face. It was roughly the size of his hand, and humanoid. It seemed to have a bit more weight to it than it had before. He placed it on his desk and tried to will it to walk across the desk, but he felt no response.

“Move across the desk,” he said, and this time it responded, walking from one end to another and back. He could see the glow of mana on it fade ever so slightly as it walked.

“Stop.”

It stopped and the mana bleed slowed to the barest of trickles. So, he needed to provide it with oral commands and the mana bled from it more quickly when it was active.

“Well. You’ve come to life for me. How do you feel about dying for me?”

It gave another salute.

“Good soldier,” replied Solomon with a smile.