Talin exited the council chambers and took in the sight. The sky above, and the sea of clouds far beneath him were ablaze with an orange hue. Gaps between them revealed the great plains of Riessis—this decade’s host for the council’s floating palace.

  To his right, resting on an ostentatious perch, was his granddaughter sitting on the hawk. Her eyes were focused on reading a book. One she’d begged to have a peek at on the flight over.

  He still wasn’t sure if it was the right decision to have started her on the path of magic so early. But with how things were developing, he didn’t think he had much of a choice.

  She too, needed to be prepared.

  “Come, Bee. Let’s go back to your mother,” he said, flying closer. “I’m sure she misses you already.”

  “Oh, Grandpa!” she scrambled to stand and ran to him. “This says that golems are made with something called presets. What’s that?”

  Talin’s eyes softened at the genuine sparkle of interest in her eyes. Memories of when he was first picked up by his master resurfaced in his mind. He used to pester the old man about every little thing he didn’t understand in the first ten seconds. It got to the point that the old master got so annoyed that he put a mute spell on him so the air around him would always remain still. It didn’t matter how hard he screamed.

  A small, melancholic sigh escaped him as he picked the girl up and immediately put a lesser mute spell on her too.

  Thank you, master.

  With the curious girl now silently thrashing about trying to get his attention, he jumped up and rode the hawk. While the other one was commanded to stay and assist Bobdrin. He figured a show of alliances was better than nothing.

  After, the hawk shot up into the sky as he spoke about the fundamentals of magic in uninterrupted peace. He finally understood why his master had liked to do this way back when.

  Though he doubted the old man had intentions as pure as his.

  ***

  The sky was now dark as they landed back in his tower. He sent a pulse to the tower’s management golem and immediately felt something was wrong. His daughter—who should have been safe, merely visiting noble houses and clans to gather knowledge—was injured.

  He didn’t waste any time and shifted space to appear in the tower’s infirmary. There, his daughter lay on a bed, being attended to by assistant golems and healers alike.

  “Anastasia,” Talin said, his voice barely controlled. “Who did this?”

  Sensing the mood, the healers knowingly exited the room.

  “Father,” his daughter pushed herself off the bed, her lips pursed. “I’m fine. Just minor wounds.”

  “Just?” Talin squinted. “It isn’t just minor when nothing was supposed to happen in the first place!”

  He breathed deeply three times in a bid to take control of his rising voice. It’d been too long since he’d felt this way. Talin couldn’t even remember exactly when the last time was.

  Perhaps everyone else has forgotten, too? His anger bubbled and broiled under his breath. “Ana.”

  His daughter sighed and shook her head. It was obvious that she was hesitating.

  “I asked you. Who?” he asked one last time.

  “I just… mother wouldn’t want you to go back to your old ways,” she said, her head down and voice small. “Wasn’t that her last wish?”

  “Yes,” he replied, letting out a breath. “She also told me to take care of you. What kind of father would I be if I let this go? If I let someone harm my children? My family?”

  “But—”

  “No, Ana,” his voice rose slightly. “This isn’t the time to be holding back. Your brother was taken by Marisabel, and now I come home to you lying injured on a bed? No.”

  He breathed three times once more.

  “This has crossed the line,” Talin turned and marched away. “I understand why you won’t tell me. It’s fine. I have my ways.”

  He tapped his left temple—a recording of when his daughter had arrived played in his mind. Ana’s voice came from behind him, asking where he was going and what he was going to do. He knew it was rhetorical. And the fact that Anastasia didn’t even try to get up and stop him told him she knew it too.

  They both knew what came next.

  The recording ended, and he got his answer.

  “The Mer again,” he whispered. “Do they think the ocean can keep them safe?”

  “Father!” his daughter shouted after him.

  Talin stopped mid-step, his head turning slightly. “Stay inside the tower until I’m done.”

  ***

  Talin stepped inside his tower’s armory for the first time in two hundred and seventy-three years. That was how long it’d been since he’d actually needed artifacts more war-capable than his regular robes and gloves. The last time he did was for a war on behalf of the empire. A war he didn’t much care for.

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  This time was different.

  He passed by several robes he’d specially made for very specific situations, like fighting exclusively as artillery in the back lines of a large army—amplifying his spells over hundreds of miles. There was also one specifically made to help with spatial manipulation, for when quick movement was needed. And another was pure anti-magic, one he’d worn when hunting a unique beast that commanded magic stronger than even his.

  For this particular case though, he needed something else.

  At the far end, past several tens of robes, staves, and wands, was a full suit of armor. Made with the help of the former Dwarven forge master and the saint of the God of Steel, it floated with its own power behind heavy defensive wards.

  It was one thing he hadn’t actually worn before, having been made right after the last war as payment he demanded from the former emperor. And with the way things were then, he hadn’t expected to ever actually need it, even though he designed it.

  He clicked his tongue. Too na?ve.

  One by one, he deactivated the wards. After the fiftieth one, he started wondering why he’d set up so many.

  After the hundredth, he remembered why.

  The tower trembled. Runes lining the walls dimmed for a moment. Even his other artifacts shook as if they’d sensed a predator in their midst.

  A veritable shockwave of mana had spread out after the last ward was unlocked. Right. He’d forgotten that the armor needed to be in a mana dense environment, not just any mana at that—it needed to be his.

  Talin stepped closer and took the helmet off the set. It looked more like a thick upside-down bowl than a knight’s helmet, designed with coverage in mind, not aesthetics.

  Spell circles covered every inch of it similar to his gloves. The difference being, it was made of a mithril alloy on par with divine artifacts.

  He stared at it for a while as he held it. Memories of his wife surfacing in his mind, unwanted.

  Her voice.

  Her touch.

  Her hand on his arm, urging him to stay.

  “You can be more than you are,” she always said. Another line that he had etched all over his academy. He wondered what she would think now that her way hadn’t worked. That even after all he’d done, they still came after his family?

  Perhaps it was time to do things differently.

  They’d forced his hand.

  He’d honored her wishes for as long as he could. Now it was time to do things the mad bastard’s way.

  Talin donned the helmet, triggering a reaction from the set. Plates lifted themselves into the air. Each sent a pulse through his very soul every time they attached to him. For a moment, mana drained out of him like his whole body had turned into a sieve.

  But only for a moment.

  His body quickly acclimatized to the drain and absorbed the ambient mana in turn.

  He summoned a mirror out of his spatial pocket and stood in front of it. The sight… made him shiver. Not from fear. From excitement.

  This armor wasn’t called the ‘Juggernaut’ for nothing.

  Unstoppable.

  Then, Talin shifted over to the tower’s control center. He set the whole place to the mode ‘spiked’—taking inspiration from a tortoise that even the largest animals wouldn’t dare ingest.

  Offensive wards ignited across its surface. Sensor arrays unfolded. Cannons rotated into position. Traps armed beneath stone and air alike. Even Jimmy transformed into Sentinel, becoming both his tower’s main detection ward and its main defensive weapon.

  When he was done, he sent a message to the relatively few trusted allies he had:

  “Prepare for cleanup.”

  They had all seen him the last time he’d gone to war, they would know exactly what he meant.

  Then he looked toward the east—where the ocean lay.

  ***

  In the northern part of the continent of Cratis, sat the capital of the empire.

  The great city of Neremont stretched over three hundred miles in each direction. All around it were walls taller than any building inside, except, technically, one. Towering above it all, was the floating palace of the emperor.

  Five sides, each face looking exactly the same to any observer. Aside from its deliberate show of power through very, very, expensive levitation arrays, it was also made up mainly of pure mana-enhanced silver—projecting an aura that protected against any and all plagues.

  At its center, sat eight of the most powerful people in the empire. They were also the only ones Talin trusted in ‘high society’.

  Elias Ganakis sat on the right-hand side of the emperor. Looking at the people gathered gave him a grave feeling.

  The last time they’d held a meeting wasn’t actually that long ago, but the last time they held one about their… mutual friend was several centuries ago.

  At the time, they were only considering whether to bring him into the fold. Now though…

  “So, I expect we all received the same message?” the lady of house Marnes, said. “If I’m honest, my family and I aren’t exactly sure what to make of it. The Primus has been silent for so long now, that him suddenly making a move is… worrying to say the least.”

  “Did you not hear, dear Desiree? Certain events are currently unfolding,” Myrto Galloway said.

  “What events?” Desiree Marnes asked.

  Myrto Galloway only smiled and looked over at the head of the table, everyone following suit.

  The emperor tapped the table with his left hand, while his right held sheet upon sheet of paper. In those were reports from each of them, with Elias’ making much of the pile. Everyone of them waited with bated breath.

  Elias’ own heart started to hasten. He’d hoped all those years ago—during the unification—that all war would be over. Or, at the very least, he wouldn’t live long enough for the next.

  Why couldn’t you wait a few more decades, old friend? He sighed as he thought of the man responsible for this meeting.

  Then, the tapping stopped.

  “So it has come to this,” the emperor, Tiberius the First Light, said, his words measured and calm. “The nobles were never going to take Talin’s goals lying down. Though I’d hoped they would see reason.”

  He paused.

  “An inevitability,” he shook his head and mumbled short-sighted clowns under his breath. “Very well. Mage Elias, what of our preparations?”

  “Ready, Prima Lucis. Though I have my reservations,” Elias said with a long, tired sigh.

  “Your reservations are noted. Unfortunately, time waits for no man—unless…” the emperor looked knowingly at him.

  “Thankfully, time magic is still out of our friend’s reach,” Elias’ hair stood on end at the thought. He had nothing against Talin, in all his faults, but time magic was a myth even more unbelievable than fairies who could manipulate reality itself.

  The room let out a collective breath of relief.

  “Good. I had feared the worst, knowing him,” Tiberius let out a chuckle. “But that only means we have more work to do.”

  The emperor stood up and turned his back.

  “Let’s keep the peace, shall we? The nobles have chosen the worst target, and the worst time,” he raised his hand and rang a bell that came out of nowhere. Then, all around them, the floating palace itself rang with it. “War has come for our enemies once more. And I trust you all know your roles.”

  Tiberius turned around and eyed each of them.

  “Elias. Desmond. Desiree. Marisabel. Before he does.”

  “Yes, Your Highness!” they stood and bowed in unison.

  “Myrto, Stefanos, you are not called the merchants of death for nothing. But this time, I order you to hold all resources that you can from all confirmed traitors.”

  “Yes, Prima Lucis!” they replied with a nod.

  The emperor eyed the last two for longer than any of them combine. “Spymasters, I trust you know what to do? They are not our only problems. See to it that our other plans are undisturbed.”

  The two nodded gravely, one fading into the shadows almost immediately.

  “Good. Dismissed.”

  Elias blanked for just a second. He’d replied as he always had, but the gravity of the situation only now settled in his mind.

  For whom do the bells toll this time, I wonder?

  He shook his head.

  May it be quick.