"Nice catch, Master David," Caleb greeted with a cheerful expression and a sly grin. "I was merely practicing the art of invisibility, you see."
"As for the enchanted artifact," Caleb continued, his voice growing serious, "although it may be a slim chance - in the realm of magic, anything is possible - I believe it could be a torn fragment from the Book of the Damned. The original book towers at least three men tall and is rumored to still reside in Pagancity."
"Ah, a halfling," Brad remarked.
"Half-halfling, to be exact. From my mother's side," Caleb corrected with a bow, revealing his proud heritage.
"This is Brad Silverhilt, a noble knight who serves Lady Illaine," David introduced. "And this is my dear apprentice, Caleb Cantorean, a former street urchin who is now learning the ways of wizardry."
Caleb frowned slightly at the description but chose to let it slide.
"Indeed, Caleb, you are correct," David said, his voice grave. "The object in question may very well be a piece from the Book of the Damned, an item that could bring untold peril in the wrong hands."
"In that case, it would be wise to locate and dispose of it at once, would it not, Master?" Caleb asked.
"Quite so," David agreed.
"Never heard of the Book of the Damned," Brad said, his voice laced with skepticism.
Caleb took a step forward, stretching his spindly arms above his head until his joints popped. "Well, that's because the true story of Pagancity has been kept hidden from all but the most cunning seekers. Three centuries ago, all the records of Lazzar City were shrouded in secrecy. Now, all that remains is a hazy myth of a colossal, smoldering metropolis, and its inhabitants, frozen in stone, still writhing in agony under the gods' wrath."
He leaned in towards the knight, squinting his eyes in a way that was both playful and sinister. "But if you're brave enough to approach the city, they say you can feel the heat of the flames and hear the anguished screams of the petrified people."
Brad shrugged nonchalantly. "So, how can we find this enchanted object, Master David?" he asked, turning to the elderly wizard.
David turned to his apprentice, Caleb. "Do you have any ideas, Caleb?"
Caleb ran his fingers through his unruly mop of curly hair, tugging at the knotted bun at the nape of his neck. "Well, magical objects that emanate potent dark magic can't hide from sharp-eyed observers. Some, like the Dark Tower of Romdaht, are quite conspicuous, rising from the heart of the Dark Desert, wreathed in thick black smoke. The Dark Magic Tower is always active, a beacon for all to see."
He paused, considering the question. "Of course, the strength of the magic used will affect the nature of the signs. For example, you might observe unexpected eclipses of the sun beyond the reckoning of the Star Calendar, or sudden changes in lunar cycles. During a time when the Red Moon should be blazing in the sky, it might suddenly go dark, leaving animals dying in droves and once-fertile lands barren for miles around. Lakes and rivers dry up, and other calamities befall the earth. Such events are often viewed as harbingers of doom, but even they may not be enough for less experienced observers. Only a master of foresight magic, such as Master David, can discern the subtle nuances of these powerful enchantments."
Brad inquired, "Might we locate the enchanted parchment by paying heed to peculiar happenings?"
"Literally speaking, it is feasible. However, in actuality, the matter is somewhat more intricate than what is assumed," Caleb responded, his countenance crumpling.
"Get to the point, Caleb, and do not mince words. The knight should also be apprised of the most recent developments," David interjected sternly.
The young wizard cleared his throat loudly in a boisterous and jittery manner. "We received word from you two days ago, and you were swift to inform Lady Illaine and thus she informed us, the experts in the field. We applaud you," Caleb took a deep breath. "But unfortunately, it was not speedy enough. Yesterday, our operatives on the street informed us that a crimson-haired woman had been making inquiries at the port about ships bound for Lathvaryl. She offered exorbitant amounts of money for discretion and provided a handsome advance payment. Nonetheless, there is always someone who can offer more," he smiled.
"Did you pursue the ship?" Brad asked with enthusiasm.
"Yes, we immediately raided the ship. However, the woman or the enchanted object was not present. It seems we were ensnared," Caleb revealed.
"Is Lady Charlotta still in our vicinity?" Brad inquired.
"It's possible, but it's equally possible that she's already gone. We're up against a shrewd, cautious and resourceful sorceress. We're unsure about the extent of her resources. Although she might have already vanished via a teleportation spell, why bother with the elaborate ruse at the port? We're on the right trail. She is hidden close by, somewhere," Caleb responded, scrunching his face.
"If her real intent is to make haste towards Lathvaryl, then she might have ventured off to Malory or Lernachia," Brad speculated.
"Smyrnia comes to mind," Caleb suggested. "For the ports in the cities you've mentioned are small and she must know that it would be easier to apprehend her there."
"You have a point. Smyrnia is much larger, and it would be easier for her to vanish there," David agreed.
"Couldn't she attempt to travel by land?" Brad queried. "The distance would be long, but it's an unexpected and duplicitous choice."
"That's also an option," Caleb acquiesced. "But, in my opinion, the female wizard will make her way to Tyran. I'd place my bet on it."
"How can you be so sure, Sir Caleb?" Brad asked.
"Because the thirteen wizards who govern Tyran are still in the employ of the Dark Wizard Laneth Alhazaurus," Caleb replied confidently.
"I fail to see its relevance to the matter at hand," Brad objected, his voice edged with skepticism. "According to the reports we've received, the Dark King has been missing for four years."
Caleb, however, was quick to refute Brad's doubts. "The Dark King's absence does not necessarily mean that Romdaht has abandoned its schemes," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Rumors suggest that he was banished to Araphia by a powerful wizard, and his loyal servants are tirelessly searching for a way to rescue him. Surely, one of the pages of the Book of the Damned can reveal the path to his liberation."
David, the old wizard, furrowed his brow, deep in thought, while Brad watched Caleb's face turn a deep shade of red, as if trying to conceal something.
The knight remained silent, seemingly hesitant to weigh in on the debate. Caleb, however, was not one to be dissuaded. "If the female wizard is truly dark, she would make a beeline for Romdaht," he insisted.
But Brad was quick to interject. "That woman cannot be in cahoots with Romdaht," he stated firmly.
Caleb raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "How can you be so certain, knight?"
"Evil is evil, regardless of whether it hides its face or tries to mask its intentions," Brad replied, his voice resolute. "I can sense it. Charlotta may be unpredictable and capricious, but she is not a zealot serving the Dark God. I am sure of that," he added, his gaze fixed intently on the old wizard and his young apprentice. "I cannot say for certain whether she has ulterior motives or is seeking fame and glory, but my instincts tell me that she is after something else entirely."
"Ridiculous," scoffed a voice in the distance, echoing through the hall. "Shall we entrust the fate of this mission to a knight's mere instincts?" It was the same elf who had been singing earlier, his arrogance ringing clear in his tone. From the southern wing, they heard the approach of footsteps.
Brad studied the elf as he neared. His reddish-yellow beard, patchy and unkempt, along with his sparse, curled mustache, indicated that he was a half-elf. A deep scar marred his face, stretching from his forehead to beneath his left eye, which was replaced with a shimmering honey-colored stone. His brown hair, interwoven with red stripes, revealed his origins as a middle northern elf. Despite his lean build, he stood nearly six feet tall and had broad shoulders that spoke of strength.
"Allow me to introduce Asvelas Freethorn, a reliable member of our team and a bard," David announced, the two men locking eyes in a tense exchange. "And Brad Silverhilt," he continued, "if you have doubts, let it be known that the knight carries a magical artifact that grants him the ability to sense evil entities, gentlemen," the aged wizard revealed.
Brad reluctantly brushed his fingers over the medal, concealed beneath his shirt, and David gave him a knowing wink.
"What truly matters is that I was present when events transpired. You were not," Brad stated firmly. "The tale that Charlotta recounted, concerning her ancestor Charl, was both convincing and realistic. Of that, I am certain. Therefore, I believe that everything will unfold in relation to this story. That woman is on a quest to uncover something, but what that may be, I cannot say," Brad attempted to convey his complex thoughts.
Caleb snickered with a sneering tone, "Pursuing tales of Charlathan won't hurt us. What significance does three hundred years hold?"
Brad questioned, "Perhaps the enchantress has already deciphered the mystic tome and unearthed her sought-after truth?"
"It's not so simple. The ritualistic ingredients required to peruse the tome are scarce and distinct," Caleb answered. Noticing Brad's inquisitive glance, he offered a vague response, "The list is extensive. I'll elucidate later." Caleb exuded a proud air as he added, "İt is very hard to find such components. But the wizards of Tyranny possess such knowledge. Another reason to validate my theory."
Brad countered, "No, Charlotta is no sorceress of the dark arts on the path of Therion. She wouldn't seek the aid of such individuals."
"Then, we're back to square one. The enchantress is playing games with us. We must presume that she harbors a hidden agenda and act accordingly. We've taken a small stride toward empathy," Caleb stated, semi-mockingly.