It was late at night. I couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t unusual for me as of late. My workstation was littered with the myriad of failed attempts at creating a first tier spell. The room was lit only by a small oil lamp. The foul smell of monster oil hung in the air. All the other archivists had left long ago. My failed attempts, however, weren’t the current source of my distress that night. No, I wasted what mana I had hours ago. Like the monster oil and my mana I was quickly burning through the money Glenn kept giving me. I needed more if I wanted to continue my studies.

  At the very least Archie not hounding me would be a nice change of pace. Glenn hadn’t said anything, either he was too trusting or too frivolous with money to care. Though the latter wouldn’t make sense with what Archie said about them being low on coin. Yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if Archie also knew that when it comes to money, there were always some conditions involved.

  I doubted Glenn would leave without Sofia and I doubted Archie and Ivili would leave without Glenn. Gambling on if Sofia was actually planning on leaving was a travesty waiting to happen. I owed too much of a debt to Glenn and Archie; the last thing I needed was for them to stop me from leaving because of that debt. Not that I could realistically make the trip solo, but not leaving wasn’t a real option. Not when the window for me to meet one of the most powerful people in the world, one who I had a good chance at convincing to help me no less, was as narrow as it was.

  It was odd that Sofia’s discontent for me hadn’t spread to Glenn and the rest as well. It would make things easier if they joined me. Free and willing guards as opposed to wasting money on mercenaries. Trying to mend whatever bridge was broken with Sofia might be worth the effort. I might’ve been a bit unrightfully irritable towards her in my mind.

  I rubbed my eyes, which were growing heavy and glazing over the words of my letter. Magic, money, and Sofia: all my problems. Or at least the ones I had any hope of actually solving in the short term.

  With a disappointed sigh, I picked up the letter I was writing, folding it before dipping it into the lamp’s flame. It curled and darkened as I set it down on the stone floor. Soon it joined the ashes of the other failed drafts. Bringing out a clean piece of paper, I began anew.

  It was an annoying balancing act. Archie had been coordinating with a spymaster on my behalf. No clue how he arranged that, but considering he’d be taking a cut I’ll tentatively trust him not to stab me in the back. Though, that left the problem of convincing them to me. Unfounded anonymous rumors wouldn’t fetch much. Exposing and subjecting myself to a truth spell could easily backfire if they pressed too hard into how I got the information. You got to love magic raising verification standards, can’t just say ‘I heard it from some guy while I was there’. Thus, the only real way to prove my intel was valid was to give some things out for free for verification.

  I needed an implied narrative: Who was I to have this information and how to portray my acquisition of it and my motives. Not that I’d say it explicitly, no, better to leave it to them to infer the wrong choices. That was certainly one skill I’ve honed from years of running ttrpgs. It’s limiting though, playing a specific role means I can only give what knowledge it makes sense for me to have. That was the price I had to pay to sell it to begin with.

  I felt a cold sweat thinking about those letters. That wasn’t even to mention the weight of what I was giving. If I give too much or too heavy a secret it could easily add a second sword dangling above my head. Fuck… I needed the money.

  After enough consideration my ‘freebie’ was simple enough: the Xaturian Empire, in alliance with the Principality of Velshraine, would invade the goblin Kingdom of Olzen in the summer. While both Xaturia and Velshraine were neighbors to the Kingdom of Hylesse, they bordered the Roylands and the Montlands respectively. Those were the two major regions aligned with the crown. If the duchies of Wesher and Primar wanted to break away from the crown, knowing how the neighbors of their two main adversaries would react to the civil war was rather valuable. My implied mask would be an expatriate of Velshraine, one who had the prince’s ear.

  Leaning back in my chair, I looked over to the spell glyphs I was working on earlier for first tier spells. Once the spell ink meets the spell paper it fuses and that was it. Most mages learning the craft, I assume, would have a mentor check their work on regular paper with regular ink before transcription. It would certainly save a lot of money.

  “This was all your fault,” I lamented quietly to my failed creations. “Why couldn’t you just work? Save me some trouble?” It was sickening looking at them, as though I could vividly see the faint glowing of the fused ink as I circulated my mana through it. Only for the flow to fizzle out and the spell to fail. Second tier spells were my goal by the end of the year. A goal that seems to slip further and further away each day I couldn’t cast first tier.

  I turned back to my unstarted letter. For better or worse this one would be the one I sent. It was too late and I was too tired to perfect it any further. After finishing, signing, and letting the ink dry I pressed the seal down. Holding my head in my hands I let out a groan before looking up, staring into the flickering flame. Fixing my money problems was in progress. One down, hopefully. I had a vague outline of a plan for how to figure out what to do about Sofia. That would be tomorrow’s problem.

  The next morning I executed my grand plan to solve the Sofia conundrum: sitting outside of Fionn’s study to ask her about it. Misplaced envy was my only real theory, but that seemed wrong. I wasn’t expecting to get an answer, let alone one I can fix. Worst comes to worst, I waste what? One morning talking to someone while I stood to gain a party of people to travel with. All of whom have already been helping me. After a while of me awkwardly waiting outside her study, Fionn showed up. She gave me a confused look before gesturing to follow her in.

  “Good morning Maeori. How’s your self study going? I’ve heard you’ve been exceptionally studious about it,” Fionn took a seat at her desk, while I sat across from her.

  “I have a decent enough grasp on some untiered spells.” I would’ve showboated, but I needed my mana for experimenting this afternoon.

  “Spells?” She emphasized the s with a raised eyebrow. “That’s quite good for the short while you’ve been here. Most apprentices spend a year mastering one or two untiered spells from what I hear. I'll admit you’re surpassing my expectations.”

  “I’m a quick study,” I said with a shallow smile. Most of my success was because of the Earth knowledge I had so the complement felt empty. Tiered spells were the only knowledge really unique to this world and I was utterly failing at those.

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  She studied my expression. “But not yet meeting your own expectations?”

  “If you don’t mind me getting to the point,” I cut off her line of questioning, not wanting to discuss my failures, “I’m concerned about Sofia. I was hoping to get more acquainted with her before we set off. Though she seems to be avoiding me. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset her.” I rubbed my head a bit. I was good enough at putting on my little song and dance well enough for people to be interested in me, or well interested enough in ttrpgs to join my table. However, beyond that I’ll admit I’m bad with people. It was why everyone always moves on without me after all.

  “Let me make us some tea,” Fionn said with a graveness to her voice before getting up.

  “Well, that’s not foreboding…”

  “If we’re getting to the point, I wouldn’t recommend making too light of this.” She chanted a spell that heated the metal of the kettle with light, quickly bringing the water to a boil.

  I sat in uneasy silence until Fionn offered me a cup before retaking her seat. “I don’t believe it’s because of you, or if it is then I’m not aware of it. Sofia has been… at odds with her father and herself for a time now. She has an unfortunately troubled past. I can’t say if Sofia’s lost faith in herself, again, or if she’s trying to keep her father off your trail. He’s rather controlling and has been quite miffed that, while she’s been here, she hasn't been under his sect.”

  “And is there more to this story?”

  “There is, but I only know fragments and Sofia hasn’t deemed to tell me all of it. When I first met her I had to expunge some curses placed on her. Mind altering magic of some sort.” Fionn made a downcast look into her cup before taking a sip. I grimaced a bit, it was yet another frightening facet of the world I hadn’t truly considered in my residency here. “I can’t do as much for her as I would like. I don’t have the authority to. I already called in favors to get you your position because somehow you’re the only ray of hope Sofia’s had in sometime. Though it seems that it was short lived, I can’t say it was unexpected.”

  “You don’t like me either do you?”

  “It’s a matter of trust more so than anything personal. Should I not be wary of the risk of false prophets tempting those in my congregation? I cannot say you’re the most forthright person I’ve met, nor ranked among the upper half.”

  “Does a god speaking through Sofia and giving me a revelation not earn any trust?”

  “Enough that I’m humoring you two,” Fionn said with a tinge of resignation. “I believe that Lady Corlyn will guide us to our deliverance, but you two made it quite clear it wasn’t her who was involved. This god responsible is still unknown, no? Whenever I’ve attempted to beseech Lady Corlyn with augury on the matter, but it’s been unnervingly uncertain.”

  “So it can’t be helped then?” I sighed knowing I couldn’t blame her. I was still some random person from her perspective.

  “To me, it’s a matter of trust between us. Trust that can still be earned so long as it hasn’t been broken, which you haven’t done.”

  “I suppose that’s reasonable. I’ve gotten us sidetracked. What about Glenn and all? How do they fit into things?”

  “Sir Glenn Stoufund,” Fionn emphasised, giving me a look of disapproval, “and Sofia were childhood friends. The Stoufund family is well positioned despite only being a minor military house. I have the authority to appoint who I want to chaperone my charges. Though bishop d’Acron’s been obstinate in allowing me to send Sofia on missionary trips for her own growth. I can scarcely manage to arrange one for her every season.”

  Fionn wore an annoyed look and took a sip of her tea before continuing. “Though, I do believe there’s more to it. Soon after Sofia joined us, instead of her father’s sect, she came to me crying and told me he was planning on marrying her off. I don’t recall his name but he was some lecherous older noble. I assume that was done to get back at her for defying him. With my guidance she made a faux vow of chastity to Stultvultan to dissuade any marriage requests. It’s been rather effective since Bishop d’Arcron has been pushing to mandate such vows for members of the cloth.”

  “Hmm, despite him having living proof that he didn’t follow such practices? How lovely. How old was she at the time?” I asked. She must’ve been rather young. Sofia, if I had to guess, was around nineteen at present if that.

  “Twelve.” Fionn responded. It was uncomfortably young. I did some mental math. The years were longer here than on Earth so that would’ve put her around fourteen in Earth years, not that it made any difference.

  We sat in silence for a moment and I let my mind wander. Stultvultan, huh? I doubt that would be a coincidence. Though, the thought of a vow of chastity to Stultvultan of all the gods was the most laughable notion I could imagine. I’m sure the only thing that made it a ‘faux vow’ was that the vow was to him. The original basis for Stultvultan’s character was the ‘horny bard’ trope after all. From what parts of his lore I had filled in, he became more than that over time. However, it was nevertheless still very much part of the character.

  “My assumption is that Bishop d’Acron wants Sofia to break her vow of her own accord,” Fionn continued after a bit. “If Sofia does so with Sir Stoufund, bishop d’Acron would have just cause to retaliate against Sir Stoufund and his family while pulling Sofia back into his control.”

  “That’s fucked,” I mumbled unsure if Fionn heard me or not. “This all seems rather heavy to tell someone you don’t especially trust.”

  “I don’t think a better option will present itself to help her. Sofia’s been in my care for a few years now. I’ve been a failure as a mentor.” Fionn closed her eyes and wore a regretful look. “I took on too much with this whole affair. Firstlanding isn’t a safe place for Sofia to stay. Because of your revelation she seems more keen to leave with you involved. Sofia still holds the gods and their will in high regard.”

  “I see.” So I was just being used to make up for her shortcomings. Fionn wanted Sofia off her plate to clear her conscience. I was the bait to motivate Sofia into leaving.

  Although, it wasn’t like I held no responsibility for Sofia’s plight. Sure, I didn’t fill in the details. I didn’t make her myself like I did with others in this world, but I painted the broad strokes that eventually were finished. I portrayed the church this way: controlling, corrupt, and cruel. Of course it went against what the gods themselves would’ve wanted and I couldn’t allow them to fix the church or clear things up for that storyline to work. What the punishment of ‘treating all their followers equally’ really meant was that they were limited in how much they could involve themselves in intrafaith conflicts and debates. In other words, they couldn’t speak against or refuse giving powers and gifts to those who’d abused those gifts.

  I stared into my tea cup. It sounded better on paper and in my mind that’s for sure. It wasn’t like the gods would’ve made a utopia, but it surely would’ve been better than this. Yet, my world needed conflicts for my players, and I wanted those conflicts to be interesting. I looked up at Fionn, she wasn’t the only one in over her head.

  I can’t fix this world. Not how I am. I needed to be stronger. I needed Sofia, I needed to use her. Her connections with Glenn, Archie, and Ivili. As shitty and selfish as it was, I needed everything I could get if I wanted to live. It wasn’t entirely onesided right? Just a small helping of egoistic altruism. I’ll help Sofia… somehow… and in return she’ll help secure my escort halfway across the continent. Though first I’d need her to talk to me.

  “Fionn, I’d like to take Sofia into town next week. To offer her magic to the people of the town as a way for her to train. Can you help orchestrate this for me?” I asked.

  “Will it help?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s worth a try.”

  “Then consider it done,” Fionn gave a small smile. She’d play along, but she didn’t believe in me did she?

  There's a good chance someday the story will accidentally be in the 'pre-author notes' section. Only twice so far have I managed to paste the story over in the correct box... it would be funny though... I accidentally put the story in the top authors notes and my random ramblings in the story box.