50th Day of Winter, 515 AV
Lately, Elias often found himself recalling a special day in his life. It was one where he was much younger, much more impressionable, eager, and he still had his hair… But even as he was now, changed, reformed, the Ravokian knew he would have fawned and fallen over himself in the same bewildering endearment he had shown as child.
It was inconceivable not to when one first met her in person.
The Voice was beautiful -beyond beautiful in fact, she was beyond even words. So incomparable was she that the bride of chaos radiated authority and affection in equal amounts unprecedented. To see her, to hear her preaching as though they were His own, it was impossible not to fall in as much love with the herald as she was with all of her people. What truly seared the moment in his mind however, was not her mere appearance upon the alter that day, but instead what she had said to him. Yes, that was right, she spoke directly to Elias. Amidst the pressing crowds of hundreds and hundreds of adoring faithful that thronged to the city square just to hear her words, her eyes somehow found his among all the others, and as their gazes lingered for that wondrous moment, they were intertwined. She spoke to him and Elias Caldera shattered like glass under the angelic melody, but from the pieces gathered, he gleamed the wisdom of her words;
‘Few men can deny the evil that harbors itself in all mortal hearts. Many seek release, while others learn to stifle it. In the end though, when love fails, and hope crumbles, there is always the seed in which all of us share, chosen and unsaved alike. It is His connection to us. His tether. His gift.’
Today those words rung true and loud as if the mage were hearing them for the first time all over again.
He knew he had to listen and act.
For a hypnotist, there are few situations more explosive than jealousy and wrath. Combined they were a palpable firestorm, a raging maelstrom of potential gain at the cost of great pain. The perfect recipe for Rhysol’s will as some would see it. Then again, few hypnotists ever gain a level of power considerable enough to tip such scales without losing something of themselves in the process.
Elias was beyond such hesitation or even guilt when he began stalking Master Julius Eckhart. The magecrafting professor was a surprisingly young man with a charmingly exquisite wife, and as the story went, they had met abroad in Syliras and both retired to Nyka to study and eventually teach. She was an important name in the alchemical department and both shared a romance some spoke of in near conspiratorial jealousy. There was much to be said about the man, this Syliran, in a positive light. He was inventive, creative, and a genuine genius in his field. Truly he understood the movements of djed and their role within the magecrafting process like none other. They also praised him as a sympathetic, caring, and easy to engage man. A bona fide heartthrob for the young women who took his classes, the man simply thrived on the positive attention.
Elias despised him.
The two had yet to meet, but the Caldera writhed and raged every time he had to endure another gaggle of women whispering about how petching marvelous he was, or how talented, or how gods damned perfect. It sickened him to no end, but the worst part, the part he couldn’t forgive, was when they went out of their way to remind him just how much better the dear, sweet, fantastic professor Julius was than he at the craft. Better than him?! Magecrafting was his pride, and no Syliran would ever be better than Elias Caldera.
Ever!
So, exhausted of the good, the Ravokian tasked himself to finding out all the bad, and he soon learned that if one had to point at a quality of the young man not as polished and refined to sparkling perfection as the others, it would have to be his jealousy. Once, at a harvest celebration, his wife, mistress Romaria, was approached by a new faculty member. Certainly he’d made light of the matter, but the man had been woefully inept in hiding his obvious interest in her. By the end of the night, Julius had knocked him to the floor with a well-placed punch. Apparently they had to drag him kicking and cursing off the man before he could do anymore harm.
Or so the rumors went.
None of these stories were lost on Elias, skulking through the halls of Nyka’s foremost institute on wordly magics. It was by chance he overheard the little story, delved more to learn that, much like her husband, Romaria thrived on positive attention as well… particularly the sighing adoration of the strapping young men in her class. While nothing sordid had ever apparently occurred, enough tiny rumors were born between dreaming students to leave a path paved for the young hypnotist to exploit.
For some time now he’d wondered at the extents his hypnotic power could reach. This situation promised a perfect test to his abilities, but more importantly, he wanted to do so because he knew now, more than ever, Elias Caldera was being watched and judged by powers beyond his comprehension. Eyes that saw the world for what it was in its wretched entirety were now upon him, he could feel it.
It was time to impress.
First, of course, he needed a proper motive, but that was hardly difficult. He was Ravokian after all, growing up his life was intrigue and espionage. It wasn't difficult to find his way in.
“So not only do you teach, but you also create magecrafted items for wizards in Syliras?”
“Not just Syliras! Riverfall, and sometimes Alvadas or Lhavit too. I haven’t the same laboratory as the masters of Sahova mind you, but I’ve been invited to the isle no less than twice now. Of course the first experience was more than enough for me… I mean to say, well, the isle is not so kind to those who still hold a pulse you know. You know about the Nuits? What they are, Yes?”
Sitting in Julius’s spacious office, Elias nodded eagerly, easily playing the part of the excitable student. “Yes sir. I’ve had the displeasure on more occasions that I care to recount.”
“Ah, I see.” Julius answered with an understanding nod. “I fully sympathize with those who find it difficult dealing with them. Growing up in Zeltiva however, I was around the Sahovans most of my life, and while many are the irritable, crass, know-it-alls that people often tell stories depicting them as, there are some who I’ve come to look up to, even proudly call my friend. It simply takes an open mind and iron stomach to understand their…. unique perspective on life.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but I feel we’ve delved off topic a bit. You mentioned you make magecrafted items? Any you’re currently working on?”
“Ah!” Julius held up an apologetic hand. “I’m not supposed to speak about my projects. They’re private matters, you see.”
“Certainly,” Elias agreed, sending a tendril of hypnotic ease into the teacher, “But what could it hurt? I’ve considered pursuing magecrafting for some time now, but I’m not sure what employment is like for any accomplished users of the craft.” What could it hurt? The voices asked innocently as Julius became the unwitting victim of the fledgling hypnotist. The moment the djed seeped into his skull and began its nefarious work, it was over for him.
Sighing as he sat back in his chair and struggling with the answer, Julius finally relented and put both arms on his desk. He motioned Elias to sit closer and the junior crafter did, craning his neck as if they were two spies exchanging information among the shadows.
“Very well, very well, but just a bit. I’m only a few days from finishing my latest project; A magical staff for a knight in Syliras!” Ever loyal to your home, Elias hissed within the confines of his own mind. An enemy of Ravok, and servant of the nemesis, or at least close enough for the stryfer. In any regards, it wasn’t as if he needed any more excuses, but this certainly helped in its own way. “He was a dear friend of mine when were little, and when he learned that I had finally committed to my studies of magecrafting -something that I was always droning on in ear about back then- he asked me for a staff like the wizards of old were known to use. Pretty standard as far as magecrafting goes, but the process is an ancient one, practically unchanged since its inception." Go on, tell him more, the boy seems to be enraptured. The tingling voice came again and Julius was powerless but to indulge in his own hubris as Elias beamed up at him with eyes of a longing puppy dog.
"You see, you insert the staff between two insulated clamps first and foremost, then coat it in expensive mineral powders and wrap it in D-wire coils- You know what those are, right?" It took all of Elias's discipline to hold back his trembling fists as he was talked down to like a child, but forced himself to shake his head stupidly none the less. The other mage nodded pityingly and the Ravokian realized with some surprise that he had never felt such an overbearing urge to bite off another's face as he did in that exact moment. "Well D-wire is just your average metal wiring, but treated with glyphing in order to expand upon its magical conductivity. Incredibly useful stuff, but anyway, as I was saying... Once that's done, you need to find two mages to cast spells of different disciplines from both ends of the staff at the same time. Curious, right? The staff must also be crafted from organic materials for the process to work: something meant to be the extension of a living, breathing person must have been alive itself, as it turns out. Metal and stone do not absorb the charged powders and generally disturb the magical stream inside the staff, though they can be tacked onto the item in small amounts as later add-ons. Most staffs are made of expensive wood because of this, though bone and ivory are not unheard of, as well as other, more exotic materials. Also, the staff must be at least two thirds as tall as its wielder for full effectiveness, though why that is I couldn't rightly tell you."
“Fantastic!” Elias applauded, grinning, “Certainly an interesting field to go into.”
Julius smiled at the praise like a dog thrown a bone. “Indeed! Indeed! Although I don’t typically welcome competition, I’m always happy to teach.”
Elias shared in the jovial laugh between them and tried not to vomit in the process. “I doubt I’ll be much of a match for you sir, but I feel you have ignited my passion all over again. Perhaps next semester we’ll be able to have these conversations as student and teacher. Thank you, Professor.”
As Julius nodded, Elias assaulted his mind again. Yes, the young man reminded him of… what was it again? Oh yes! Just a few days ago, he’d seen a similar, although not exact, young man speaking to his wife. They’d seemed awfully friendly, close even, and her gaze had lingered for a moment too long on him as he headed off down the hall. Certainly she wasn’t unfaithful to him, but the seed of doubt would fan the jealousy Elias already deduced was there. Too many stories, too many occurrences, and now one more unfolding before his very eyes. Now he was helpless but to teeter and dance along the tightrope Elias had strung up for him.
Soon, he would hang from it.
It was inconceivable not to when one first met her in person.
The Voice was beautiful -beyond beautiful in fact, she was beyond even words. So incomparable was she that the bride of chaos radiated authority and affection in equal amounts unprecedented. To see her, to hear her preaching as though they were His own, it was impossible not to fall in as much love with the herald as she was with all of her people. What truly seared the moment in his mind however, was not her mere appearance upon the alter that day, but instead what she had said to him. Yes, that was right, she spoke directly to Elias. Amidst the pressing crowds of hundreds and hundreds of adoring faithful that thronged to the city square just to hear her words, her eyes somehow found his among all the others, and as their gazes lingered for that wondrous moment, they were intertwined. She spoke to him and Elias Caldera shattered like glass under the angelic melody, but from the pieces gathered, he gleamed the wisdom of her words;
‘Few men can deny the evil that harbors itself in all mortal hearts. Many seek release, while others learn to stifle it. In the end though, when love fails, and hope crumbles, there is always the seed in which all of us share, chosen and unsaved alike. It is His connection to us. His tether. His gift.’
Today those words rung true and loud as if the mage were hearing them for the first time all over again.
He knew he had to listen and act.
For a hypnotist, there are few situations more explosive than jealousy and wrath. Combined they were a palpable firestorm, a raging maelstrom of potential gain at the cost of great pain. The perfect recipe for Rhysol’s will as some would see it. Then again, few hypnotists ever gain a level of power considerable enough to tip such scales without losing something of themselves in the process.
Elias was beyond such hesitation or even guilt when he began stalking Master Julius Eckhart. The magecrafting professor was a surprisingly young man with a charmingly exquisite wife, and as the story went, they had met abroad in Syliras and both retired to Nyka to study and eventually teach. She was an important name in the alchemical department and both shared a romance some spoke of in near conspiratorial jealousy. There was much to be said about the man, this Syliran, in a positive light. He was inventive, creative, and a genuine genius in his field. Truly he understood the movements of djed and their role within the magecrafting process like none other. They also praised him as a sympathetic, caring, and easy to engage man. A bona fide heartthrob for the young women who took his classes, the man simply thrived on the positive attention.
Elias despised him.
The two had yet to meet, but the Caldera writhed and raged every time he had to endure another gaggle of women whispering about how petching marvelous he was, or how talented, or how gods damned perfect. It sickened him to no end, but the worst part, the part he couldn’t forgive, was when they went out of their way to remind him just how much better the dear, sweet, fantastic professor Julius was than he at the craft. Better than him?! Magecrafting was his pride, and no Syliran would ever be better than Elias Caldera.
Ever!
So, exhausted of the good, the Ravokian tasked himself to finding out all the bad, and he soon learned that if one had to point at a quality of the young man not as polished and refined to sparkling perfection as the others, it would have to be his jealousy. Once, at a harvest celebration, his wife, mistress Romaria, was approached by a new faculty member. Certainly he’d made light of the matter, but the man had been woefully inept in hiding his obvious interest in her. By the end of the night, Julius had knocked him to the floor with a well-placed punch. Apparently they had to drag him kicking and cursing off the man before he could do anymore harm.
Or so the rumors went.
None of these stories were lost on Elias, skulking through the halls of Nyka’s foremost institute on wordly magics. It was by chance he overheard the little story, delved more to learn that, much like her husband, Romaria thrived on positive attention as well… particularly the sighing adoration of the strapping young men in her class. While nothing sordid had ever apparently occurred, enough tiny rumors were born between dreaming students to leave a path paved for the young hypnotist to exploit.
For some time now he’d wondered at the extents his hypnotic power could reach. This situation promised a perfect test to his abilities, but more importantly, he wanted to do so because he knew now, more than ever, Elias Caldera was being watched and judged by powers beyond his comprehension. Eyes that saw the world for what it was in its wretched entirety were now upon him, he could feel it.
It was time to impress.
First, of course, he needed a proper motive, but that was hardly difficult. He was Ravokian after all, growing up his life was intrigue and espionage. It wasn't difficult to find his way in.
“So not only do you teach, but you also create magecrafted items for wizards in Syliras?”
“Not just Syliras! Riverfall, and sometimes Alvadas or Lhavit too. I haven’t the same laboratory as the masters of Sahova mind you, but I’ve been invited to the isle no less than twice now. Of course the first experience was more than enough for me… I mean to say, well, the isle is not so kind to those who still hold a pulse you know. You know about the Nuits? What they are, Yes?”
Sitting in Julius’s spacious office, Elias nodded eagerly, easily playing the part of the excitable student. “Yes sir. I’ve had the displeasure on more occasions that I care to recount.”
“Ah, I see.” Julius answered with an understanding nod. “I fully sympathize with those who find it difficult dealing with them. Growing up in Zeltiva however, I was around the Sahovans most of my life, and while many are the irritable, crass, know-it-alls that people often tell stories depicting them as, there are some who I’ve come to look up to, even proudly call my friend. It simply takes an open mind and iron stomach to understand their…. unique perspective on life.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but I feel we’ve delved off topic a bit. You mentioned you make magecrafted items? Any you’re currently working on?”
“Ah!” Julius held up an apologetic hand. “I’m not supposed to speak about my projects. They’re private matters, you see.”
“Certainly,” Elias agreed, sending a tendril of hypnotic ease into the teacher, “But what could it hurt? I’ve considered pursuing magecrafting for some time now, but I’m not sure what employment is like for any accomplished users of the craft.” What could it hurt? The voices asked innocently as Julius became the unwitting victim of the fledgling hypnotist. The moment the djed seeped into his skull and began its nefarious work, it was over for him.
Sighing as he sat back in his chair and struggling with the answer, Julius finally relented and put both arms on his desk. He motioned Elias to sit closer and the junior crafter did, craning his neck as if they were two spies exchanging information among the shadows.
“Very well, very well, but just a bit. I’m only a few days from finishing my latest project; A magical staff for a knight in Syliras!” Ever loyal to your home, Elias hissed within the confines of his own mind. An enemy of Ravok, and servant of the nemesis, or at least close enough for the stryfer. In any regards, it wasn’t as if he needed any more excuses, but this certainly helped in its own way. “He was a dear friend of mine when were little, and when he learned that I had finally committed to my studies of magecrafting -something that I was always droning on in ear about back then- he asked me for a staff like the wizards of old were known to use. Pretty standard as far as magecrafting goes, but the process is an ancient one, practically unchanged since its inception." Go on, tell him more, the boy seems to be enraptured. The tingling voice came again and Julius was powerless but to indulge in his own hubris as Elias beamed up at him with eyes of a longing puppy dog.
"You see, you insert the staff between two insulated clamps first and foremost, then coat it in expensive mineral powders and wrap it in D-wire coils- You know what those are, right?" It took all of Elias's discipline to hold back his trembling fists as he was talked down to like a child, but forced himself to shake his head stupidly none the less. The other mage nodded pityingly and the Ravokian realized with some surprise that he had never felt such an overbearing urge to bite off another's face as he did in that exact moment. "Well D-wire is just your average metal wiring, but treated with glyphing in order to expand upon its magical conductivity. Incredibly useful stuff, but anyway, as I was saying... Once that's done, you need to find two mages to cast spells of different disciplines from both ends of the staff at the same time. Curious, right? The staff must also be crafted from organic materials for the process to work: something meant to be the extension of a living, breathing person must have been alive itself, as it turns out. Metal and stone do not absorb the charged powders and generally disturb the magical stream inside the staff, though they can be tacked onto the item in small amounts as later add-ons. Most staffs are made of expensive wood because of this, though bone and ivory are not unheard of, as well as other, more exotic materials. Also, the staff must be at least two thirds as tall as its wielder for full effectiveness, though why that is I couldn't rightly tell you."
“Fantastic!” Elias applauded, grinning, “Certainly an interesting field to go into.”
Julius smiled at the praise like a dog thrown a bone. “Indeed! Indeed! Although I don’t typically welcome competition, I’m always happy to teach.”
Elias shared in the jovial laugh between them and tried not to vomit in the process. “I doubt I’ll be much of a match for you sir, but I feel you have ignited my passion all over again. Perhaps next semester we’ll be able to have these conversations as student and teacher. Thank you, Professor.”
As Julius nodded, Elias assaulted his mind again. Yes, the young man reminded him of… what was it again? Oh yes! Just a few days ago, he’d seen a similar, although not exact, young man speaking to his wife. They’d seemed awfully friendly, close even, and her gaze had lingered for a moment too long on him as he headed off down the hall. Certainly she wasn’t unfaithful to him, but the seed of doubt would fan the jealousy Elias already deduced was there. Too many stories, too many occurrences, and now one more unfolding before his very eyes. Now he was helpless but to teeter and dance along the tightrope Elias had strung up for him.
Soon, he would hang from it.
