Trinity of Magic

Zeke was pacing his room, a troubled look in his eyes.

He had persuaded Winter to grant him half of the war prisoners—a concession he’d fought for tooth and nail. The thought of gaining such a force all at once made Zeke almost giddy with joy. This would allow him to join the war effort against the empire with a force of his own.

However, as he considered the logistics, Zeke’s excitement turned to concern. There were many issues he hadn’t fully accounted for. First and foremost, he had no land or estate to house such a force.

Even at a modest estimate, he would have a few hundred people, and Tradespire was out of the question. Not only would finding accommodations be nearly impossible, but even bringing them into the city would be a challenge. As a neutral city, Tradespire imposed strict limits on armed forces, and using it as a base to launch any war effort was strictly forbidden. Yet, for now, it was the only home he had.

And that was just one of many obstacles he faced.

Even more pressing was the question of control. No matter how beaten down and demoralized they seemed now, Zeke couldn’t assume they’d remain obedient once Winter was no longer looming over them. Without a solid plan, he’d likely be facing a rebellion sooner or later.

Of course, Zeke had the option of using the Enslavement Ritual.

It was the most practical solution, addressing multiple needs at once. First, it would allow him to establish complete control over them. Second, it would make any act of betrayal impossible. And third, the Ritual would protect them from being enslaved by anyone else in the future.

Still, Zeke felt uneasy. He couldn’t keep relying on such a sinister practice indefinitely. In Korrovan, he’d had no choice; binding the Chimeroi in Undercity had been essential to ensure their freedom and survival. This time, however, he wasn’t bound by the same constraints. Here, he could afford to take his time and devise a better, more sustainable solution.

Maybe there were some other incentives he could offer to ensure their loyalty?

His smile turned wry. Realistically, building any genuine trust with the Frostscale tribe was nearly impossible, at least in the short term. After all, he was largely responsible for their defeat. He wouldn’t blame them if many harbored deep resentment toward him.

Could he rely on threats?

Unlikely. A threat only worked as long as the danger remained present, just as they were currently under Winter’s control. But Zeke couldn’t stand guard over them indefinitely. Besides, he doubted he could even enforce a threat effectively. In their last encounter, he had barely managed to sway them toward a ceasefire, and that had only been achieved through bluffing. There was no way he could command the same level of authority over them that Winter did.

Rewards?

Zeke dismissed the thought quickly. While he had things to offer, they were intangible and would do little to ensure loyalty. The Blood Boil technique, for instance, would be a powerful reward, but once granted, it couldn’t be taken back. It might earn him gratitude but offered no means to bind them to his cause over time.

Frustration began to rise within him. Why was this so difficult? He wasn’t planning to mistreat them or make unreasonable demands—at least, not compared to what their previous Progenitor had imposed. Yet, without the Enslavement Ritual, there seemed no secure way to command obedience, and without that, he couldn’t risk sharing his techniques and knowledge without fear of it spreading uncontrolled.

His thoughts drifted to the great families of the empire. They had managed to keep their people loyal for generations. Zeke knew they used a memory-sealing Ritual to protect their secrets, but that wasn’t the only reason their soldiers remained faithful, even in the face of death.

The Emperor of Arkanheim upheld strict societal norms, ensuring that betrayal was never tolerated. He had cultivated a society where bravery and loyalty were the highest virtues. With such a system in place, it was no wonder the great families rarely had to fear disloyalty.

Sadly, Zeke couldn’t rely on any of that. He had no powerful force backing him, no societal norms to bind people to his cause, and no laws to prevent betrayal. That was the fate of a man without roots. He could only rely on himself to make the world bend to his will.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how to accomplish that—yet.

Just when Zeke was beginning to contemplate his other options, he got a suggestion from an unexpected source.

[Notice.]

I have an idea, Host.

“What do you mean, Akasha?”

In the next instant, Akasha appeared before him, projecting herself directly into his field of view. It had been a few days since Zeke had last seen her, and something about her appearance seemed subtly different. Her eyes, once an ocean blue reminiscent of Sophia’s, now held a faint tint of red. However, Zeke was already quite familiar with the subtle changes that Akasha periodically went through, so he didn’t comment any further.

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Akasha held his gaze. ”Host seems to be dissatisfied with the Enslavement Ritual.”

”I am,” Zeke replied. ”While it’s convenient, it’s far too absolute. I don’t intend to be like those slavers. There should always be a way out, even if someone has sworn fealty.”

”What else is Host dissatisfied with?” Akasha asked.

”Why do you ask?” Zeke responded, curious.

”I am attempting to gather the ideal specifications Host is demanding.”

Zeke paused, a realization forming. ”Are you suggesting we create a new Ritual? Something that will perfectly match my requirements?”

”Correct,” the spirit replied.

Zeke considered the possibility, and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. Without a country or powerful entity backing him, the only thing he could truly rely on was Magic. With Akasha’s assistance and a wealth of Rituals already memorized, he might just be able to combine them to create the effect he desired.

However, before he could even start working on the Ritual, he needed a crystal-clear understanding of what he wanted it to accomplish. Any uncertainty or vague details would only lead to problems later.

The question was difficult, but it became more manageable when he defined his starting point: the Enslavement Ritual. This would serve as the foundation for his customized Ritual. And from this perspective, pinpointing the flaws became easier.

First: The Ritual couldn’t be an eternal shackle—there needed to be a way to release someone from it.

Second: The Ritual shouldn’t demand absolute obedience, only prevent betrayal.

Third: The Ritual had to protect his secrets, ensuring they couldn’t be shared.

The moment he voiced these requirements, Akasha had already started working, considering how to bring his vision to life.

“The third requirement can likely be managed by incorporating a modified version of the memory-sealing Ritual into the primary functions,” Akasha noted.

“The second requirement,” she continued, “should be achievable with an adjusted Enslavement Ritual. By returning the servant’s Soul fragment, the effect should align closely with your needs.”

She paused, her tone more cautious. “The first condition, however, presents the greatest challenge. It would need to work seamlessly with the other two components, capable of reversing both effects yet resistant to exploitation by a third party.”

Zeke nodded, fully aware that making the process reversible was an ambitious, almost impossible demand. Yet he couldn’t feel at peace unless he at least attempted it. This was the critical difference between creating more slaves and recruiting true, willing soldiers.

“Is there a way to use a loophole?” he asked.

Akasha’s gaze sharpened. “What sort of loophole is Host considering?”

Zeke thought about it for a second, before explaining what he meant. “For instance, I can break the Enslavement Ritual by ordering a slave never to take orders from me again, and to never reverse that command, no matter what I say or do. The underlying compulsion wouldn’t disappear, but it would become permanently untriggerable—effectively freeing them.”

Akasha nodded thoughtfully.

“…Perhaps we could create a condition that effectively releases someone from the bond, even if it isn’t a perfect reversal,” Zeke said, his mind already spinning with possibilities.

”The simplest way to achieve that would be through the Oath,” Akasha replied confidently.

“What role does the Oath play, exactly?” Zeke asked.

”In Ritual Magic, the Oath functions like Intent does in spellcasting,” Akasha explained. ”While the Ritual’s engraving defines the effect’s general direction, the Oath can fine-tune the specifics. So, if we were to create a deliberate loophole, it should be designed into the Oath itself.”

As the ideas began to flow, Zeke’s mind whirled with possibilities. Instead of fully undoing the compulsion, he considered that simply refining the restrictions could achieve his aims. For instance, the memory-sealing Ritual prevented individuals from sharing any information deemed confidential according to their Oath.

Interestingly, what qualified as confidential wasn’t rigidly defined. While one could explicitly tell a recipient that certain information was restricted, in most cases there was room to adjust what information could be shared—and with whom—based on the specifics of their Oath.

“Could we push the memory-sealing Ritual even further?” Zeke asked as a new idea struck him.

Akasha narrowed her eyes. “How much further?”

“I want people to have the option to leave my service if they choose,” Zeke replied, carefully choosing his words. “But I want there to be some kind of penalty if they do.”

Akasha nodded thoughtfully.

“I was thinking that if someone chose to leave my service, they should lose access to everything valuable they learned during their time with me,” Zeke said. “Not just the inability to share it—but to forget it completely.”

Akasha paused before replying. “Such a condition could be arranged. However, it would require removing a part of their Soul’s connection to that knowledge. This might cause lasting damage to the individual.”

Zeke nodded slowly, accepting the trade-off. While it wasn’t an ideal solution, he was willing to take that risk. After all, he wasn’t looking to make it easy for anyone to abandon his service, and those who did should be prepared to face some repercussions.

”What about the modifications to the Enslavement Ritual?” Zeke asked.

”The Ritual can likely be adjusted to integrate the changes Host has been performing manually,” Akasha replied.

”You’re referring to me returning the Soul fragment to them?” Zeke clarified.

”Positive,” she confirmed. ”Additionally, the Oath could include a clause about the potential for release. This would allow for the same effect without having to rely on the precise wording of a loophole.”

Zeke could feel the Ritual’s structure taking shape in his mind. He wasn’t nearly skilled enough in Ritual Magic to envision the exact pathways, but the concept was forming clearly.

This Ritual would allow him to create soldiers who could act independently, yet without the risk of betrayal. He’d be able to teach them his techniques without worrying about leaks. And, most importantly, they would have the freedom to leave his service if they chose to, but everything they’d learned from him would vanish along with their loyalty. It would be a clean break, wiping the slate between them.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. Depending on how this turned out, it might finally be the solution to a problem that had been plaguing him ever since he left the empire and tried to form his own force.