While Mike had seen Emmanuel a few times over the past few days, mainly as part of official ceremonies, they had not spoken since the war ended. Not only had things been a bit strained prior to the final fight, but the older mage had all but abandoned him in his conflict with the Skull Lord. Even though it had turned out alright in the end, it still left a bad taste in his mouth. Combined with the general dissatisfaction he'd been feeling about him and his friends being used as semi-disposable pawns during the conflict, he was not particularly interested in repairing the relationship.
"What can I do for you, Marshal?" Mike asked after waiting a few seconds for Emmanuel to continue. Although he tried to keep his voice neutral, a bit of frostiness leaked out into his words.
"I no longer have that title, fortunately. Another general has taken over command of the Central Army. Although, truth be told, there isn't much left of our military forces any more. With the exception of the Western Army, who managed to hold out in Southern Tennundi for the last few weeks and are still on their way back here, most of the soldiers have been released from their duties. It seems that with the absence of a hostile neighbor to the west, and our new peaceful relations with both the orcs and the elves, there is little need for a standing army."
The older man paused, taking a moment to examine the book Mike had been looking at. "In any case, I came to find you today for a personal reason."
"Oh?"
"We didn't part on the best terms, and I doubt my actions during the battle, justified though they might have been at the time, did anything to improve that. So, I came here to offer my apologies. Regardless of your true origins, you nevertheless single-handedly saved this country from annihilation. It was wrong of me to treat as anything other than a treasured ally. I had feared...well, it doesn't matter now. Suffice it to say, it was an error on my part to view you as anything other than an ally, and for that I am truly sorry."
Mike studied his teacher for a few moments, noting that he did appear to be generally remorseful about the situation.
[It's easy to say that, now that my purpose has come to an end, but I suppose there is no harm in accepting his apology, so long as I avoid getting wrapped up in whatever else he is planning.]
"I understand. It was a trying time for all of us. I can't imagine the kind of pressure you must have been under." He replied finally.
An awkward silence descended for a few moments before Emmanuel coughed. "Yes, well, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of preparations left to complete before your departure."
Mike nodded, waiting for him to get to the point.
The older mage pulled out a leatherbound notebook and handed it to him. "Before I go, I just wanted to give you this. It's a collection of most of the Space Magic spells I know. Please keep in mind that I have a few personal creations that would be problematic to share, but I've given you what I could. Additionally, I've included some guidance about improving your control over the element for the purposes of free casting."
Flipping through it, Mike discovered that it was full of detailed notes on the various aspects of Space Magic. The information was presented in such a fashion that he felt quite confident in his ability to make use of it.
"Thank you. This will definitely come in handy." He answered sincerely after determining the contents.
"Think nothing of it. It seemed rather arrogant of me to call myself your teacher when I've only ever given you a single introductory lesson. Hopefully, this notebook will do something to rectify that. Anyway, I should be getting back. I have a dinner meeting to attend and I'm already running late." Emmanuel sighed.
"I don't envy you in the slightest, but I wish you the best of luck."
With polite, almost friendly smiles, the two parted ways. Once the older mage was gone, Mike slipped the notebook into his extradimensional sack and mentally reviewed the conversation. By all appearances, Emmanuel had been genuinely trying to apologize, and had even prepared a gift to make up for his actions.
In the past, Mike would have been happy to simply have the conflict resolved, but now he wasn't as naive. Perhaps it was the attribute enhancement that came along with advancing to the next tier, but for some reason, he found himself feeling a bit skeptical about Emmanuel's sudden change of heart.
[It seems something's happened to alter his priorities. While I suppose it could be as simple as him not wanting to be on the shit list of a Tier 4 mage, I have a feeling it's more complicated than that.]
After a few minutes of contemplation, he didn't seem to be any closer to understanding the situation. Finally, he decided to merely keep an eye out for anything that might be hostile to his interests, which didn't really take much in the way of effort. After all, he was already watching for the Cabal, the Annhilites, Lacotians, the Dovistani agents after Lily, the vampires who've been strangely quiet ever since they tried to abduct him that one time, and any other person or organization that might try to mess with him or his friends, given the opportunity.
[Now that I think about it, don't I have a lot of enemies for someone that's only been in this world a relatively short time?]
Dismissing his concerns for the moment, he went back to checking the rest of the books in this restricted section. The next tome he investigated turned out to be a sort of research log/recipe list belonging to an Artificer of some kind. It didn't take him long to make this one of his choices.
He moved on to the scroll case next, wanting to save the other actual book for last. Inside was a roll of a thin, malleable metal, etched with a complicated runic diagram that was practically indecipherable to him. It wasn't so much that he couldn't understand it's meaning, but rather that there appeared to be several segments that were missing. He could tell that it had something to do with the transmission of sound, or perhaps thought, but he wasn't sure what the intended purpose was. Thankfully, it came with a sheet of parchment that appeared to be the notes of the original cataloguer. According to it, the diagram was found in a High Elven ruin and is believed to be the blueprints for some kind of device meant for interdimensional communication. Unfortunately, it was never completed, and no modern mages have sufficient understanding of the methodology behind it to complete the work.
[As fascinating as all this is, I don't think it's going to be much help. Based purely on the parts I can understand, this formation isn't even halfway complete. I wouldn't even know where to begin putting it into practice. Still...it can't hurt to jot this down...Just in case.]
He spent the next hour copying it to the best of his ability. This ended up taking a large section of his notebook, but it seemed justified considering the possible uses. Whether or not he would have the time to research it was another matter entirely.
Next he sorted through the wooden tiles, finding them to contain remnants of an ancient martial arts manual centered around hand-to-hand combat technique. According to a card in the display case, it dated back to the very beginning of the 3rd Age. While it looked fairly interesting from an academic standpoint, he didn't understand why it might be in the restricted section at all unless it was merely for the historical value. The moveset wasn't particularly impressive, even to his untrained eye, but he guessed that it might have been more revolutionary back in the day. Regardless, he didn't see any need to borrow this particular work.
Moving on he picked up the last book, he found that 'Through the Skies Themselves,' was emblazoned on the front cover. For a few seconds he wondered if this might not be related to some kind of flight magic, until he read the first page.
'In this tome, I have done my best to catalogue the knowledge bestowed upon me by my generous hosts, the Air Dragons of Kalientus Peak. Though I am but a humble researcher, they saw fit to show me not only the beauty of their home, but the nature of their lifestyles and the secrets of their ancient lore. I write this account in the hopes that it will correct certain misconceptions about our scaly brethren in the skies, and that more people might benefit from their wisdom.'
He scanned through its contents, quickly noting that the meticulous author had covered virtually every aspect of the dragon's life cycle from birth to death, and had even catalogued every individual member of the species he'd come across. It was a remarkable work, chock full of information that would have been both inaccessible and unbelievable for most readers, but it was presented in such a fashion that made it difficult to remain skeptical.
[Although they aren't quite the same species, this should give me some insight into what's going with Audra and provide some details that might improve my dragon summoning in the future.]
Taking it with him, Mike moved down through the lower levels of the restricted section and scanned their contents. While a number of the books seemed useful in the long run, he decided to instead focus on one aspect he'd long neglected due to its apparent ineffectiveness for him.
After taking note of the acquisition method for the Light Armor Usage skill, he picked up a book that detailed methods for crafting armor, specifically of the lighter varieties. With the demi-realm to provide a mobile workshop, he fully planned on taking advantage of his manufacturing skills.
Choices made, he headed down to the front desk, and surprised the librarians there with not only the books he planned on checking out, but the length of time he was intending to hold on to them. Something about that struck most of them as being a heinous crime. Despite the fact that he'd gotten express permission from the headmaster, they acted like he was trying to take their children away. It was only after swearing on his life to not damage any of them, was he allowed to leave.
[Kind of a big difference from the VIP treatment I got when I first showed up. I suppose it's a good thing that they are serious about their work. Still, it's not like I was never planning on returning them.]
Chagrinned, he headed back to the dorm to hopefully catch the tail end of dinner and start working on some of his many projects.
----------------------------------------------------
Barkas knocked on the door in the prescribed pattern and waited for three full seconds before entering. The dingy tailor shop was dark and empty, its displayed clothes and fabrics covered in a fine layer of dust. He'd heard that the owner had fled the city in the days before the siege, and had either not returned yet, or died before he could.
He was just about to call out, when a prick of something metallic and cold on the side of his neck caused him to freeze in place. A quiet woman's voice whispered in his ear, sounding slightly strained, "Who are you, and what do you want?"
Another voice, male this time, arose from the shadows at the rear of the shop. "No need for that Vivienne, I've been expecting our guest here for some time. He has something of value to me. Besides, you should be resting. You still haven't recovered from your injury."
The blade was pulled back from his neck, and any hint of the woman holding it vanished, sending chills down Barkas's spine at how easily she did so.
[What have I gotten myself into?] He thought, before dismissing his doubts. He'd come too far to turn back now.
"I take it you have brought what I requested?" The voice asked from the shadows.
"I did. It very nearly cost me my job, but I did." He replied while unwrapping a small bundle he'd been carrying in his pocket. A stray patch of light from the street fell across his hand as he held up the shard of rune carved bone.
The voice laughed. "Good, good. That's exactly what I was looking for. Please set it on the counter. You'll find your payment there as well."
Barkas complied, quickly pocketing the purse full of coins and stepping back. "Right...well...I'll be off then."
"Safe travels." The voice purred from a slightly different section of the shop, causing a wave of revulsion to creep up Barkas's throat at the unnatural warmth of the statement.
Not needing any further prompting, he turned and made his way out, only stopping briefly at the door to look over his shoulder. He still couldn't quite make out the figure of his employer, but as he watched, the man stretched out his hand and collected the bone shard. The skin of his arm was pale, almost corpse-like, and something about its pallor sent renewed shivers of fear down his spine.
Resolving himself to never again involve himself in this kind of mess, Barkas shut the shop door and hurriedly made his way to his favorite tavern. All of a sudden he was in desperate need of a stiff drink.