The teleportation courtyard in the wizarding college quickly grew chaotic as the wizards of the school flooded in to evacuate the city and the yet unknown threat.

  While Ellen used her wizardry to live the life of an adventurer, focusing on spells applicable to combat and exploration, most of her colleagues took their studies in a different direction. While Ellen learned the best way to light a room full of goblins on fire using the last amount of magic, her fellow noodle armed wizards were learning more directly profitable spells.

  Why learn to kill things to steal their treasures when you could simply learn to create those very treasures yourself?

  So, while nameless invaders attacked the city, the bulk of that same city’s magical might was busy fleeing to various colleges and sister organizations throughout the continent.

  The bulk, but not all. No people are a monolith, and wizards—for the most part—were people. As such, some chose a different path to apply their power.

  Ellen grabbed Grom by his formal clerical robe and dragged him toward the path to the city proper.

  “My spare gear!” he demanded, pulling his robe out of Ellen’s hand and running up beside her.

  Ellen pulled a small sack off her belt, and passed it to the dwarf, who then proceeded to pull out a mace, shield, and helmet, all far too large to have fit inside the tiny pouch.

  “Why did you leave your gear behind?” Ellen asked.

  “You can’t bring weapons to officiate a funeral,” Grom said,

  “Why not? It’s not like you’re a real cleric.”

  “When putting on a show, its best to dress the part,” Grom said, but then added with less certainty. “And for whatever reason that seems to be working more and more.”

  They reached the exterior gates of the college to see fires spreading throughout the city, with small figures flying over the roof tops, clearly the source of the flames.

  With a gesture, Ellen’s familiar was at her side. It took off into the air, travelling towards the commotion. Ellen’s eyes lost focus as she looked through those of her raven.

  Before it got close, a small, winged figure flew out of an alley, snatching it from the air.

  Ellen winced,

  “Oh, poor Newt. He’s going to make me pay for that,” she said. “But at least we know what we are up against. Imps.”

  Grom let out a groan.

  “I bloody hate imps.”

  ***

  Ellen resummoned Newt, the raven letting out an irritated caw at the treatment.

  “Try not to die this time then,” Ellen said to the raven.

  The imps were ignoring the pair, wreaking havoc among the city by starting fires.

  Ellen resisted her initial urge to blast them with fire, instead casting a spell, conjuring force a small spectral humanoid with the wings of a bug. The creature spot to Ellen in a language unfamiliar to Grom, and then took off into the air to face off against the nearest imp.

  “We are going to need to find some flower wine later,” Ellen said. “That, or let it curse you with a yellow beard.”

  “Why am I involved in this?” Grom asked.

  The fairy took the imp by surprise, killing it in a single strike, but as the devil burst into flames and then turned to ash, the imps around it became aware of the aerial threat.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Cover me,” Ellen said to Grom.

  Newt let out a caw, and both turned to see a imp diving at them. The bird leaped off Ellen’s shoulders to intercept the imp, but a ball of fire left the imps hand and struck the raven, bursting into a bloom of fire and feathers.

  The imp flew through the cloud, only to meet Grom’s swinging mace.

  Ellen shot a bolt of ice at a low flying devil, but the icy projectile moved slower than the fire she was used to, and it missed.

  “Stupid ice!” she cursed, sending cloudy blast of snow into the air.

  Seeing the threat Grom and Ellen caused—if she’d ever land a blow—the imps began to descend on the pair.

  Grom batted them away when he could reach, each strike taking out a devil, but they all focused on Ellen. Up close, she landed more strikes, but the bolts of icy exploded into shards that sprayed Ellen and Grom, harming them as much as the imps had.

  “Gods damned imps!” Grom cursed, and with his yell, his mace began to glow with a golden light.

  “That’s new,” Ellen said, casting a shield to block a trio of diving imps.

  Grom ran through Ellen’s shield, catching the surprised imps as they tried to recover the sudden impact. He struck the center imp, and the mace seared the flesh of the two beside it by its mere proximity.

  At the sight of the glowing weapon, the imps fled, forcing the pair to chase them down to deal with them. With each bolt of ice Ellen fired, her accuracy grew, until any imp they found fell to a single bolt. She wouldn’t admit it, but the exploding feature of the spell did well against the swarms they often encountered tormenting fleeing citizen.

  Soon all the imps had been dealt with, and all that remained was to put out the fires.

  ***

  “Where were you?” Ellen asked Syril as she sat their usual table with Grom.

  “I was calming down all the frightened humans and organizing a bucket brigade,” he said. “I probably saved the city from burning down.”

  At the mention of fire, he sniffed his jacket and winced at the smell.

  “Hardly seems worth it now though. What were you two doing?”

  “We killed the imps,” Ellen said, distastefully.

  “Oh, it was imps?” Grom, you hate imps,” Syril said, taking a seat.

  “Aye,” Grom agreed.

  “Me too now, you can’t burn them. I had to use ice magic Syril. Ice.” Ellen wined, shuddering slightly at the last word. “I’d fight them again though if it meant getting out of that ‘funeral.’”

  “Oh yeah, how did that go?” Syril asked. “I left as soon as Bill got up. Good job on that by the way Grom. Now I don’t have to find a new front liner.”

  Ellen and Grom shared an uncomfortable look.

  “We should probably find a new one anyway,” Ellen said. “He was pretty mad about Linar… and he was married.”

  “Don’t worry about Linar,” Syril said, waving it off. “I can talk Bill around on him. Why does him having being married matter to you? You didn’t care with that halfling.”

  “I’m going to break up with him, obviously. I was looking for an excuse before he died, remember?”

  Syril rubbed his forehead in frustration, and then noticed the soot on his palm, and then cast a quick spell with a flick of his wrist and a hummed note. Suddenly the smudge that had appeared on his forehead and his hands vanished.

  “This is why you need to stop sleeping with the meat shields,” Syril said, exasperated. “If they don’t die, you breakup with them. This one died and now you’re breaking up with him?”

  “I make no promises,” Ellen said, taking a sip of her wine.

  She turned on Grom.

  “I think you owe me an explanation,” she said.

  “What for?” Grom asked, fighting to keep his features still. “And what do I owe you?”

  “I thought you were pretending to be a cleric,” she whispered, looking around the room for eavesdroppers. “I didn’t pry, it was none of my business but lately you’ve been displaying actual divine magic. It was little things at first, but now you have a glowing mace and full on resurrected a man I would have rather have remained dead. So, explain.”

  Grom looked to Syril for help, but the elf put his hands in the air, “I’m not helping. This is your mess. And besides, I’m curious as well.”

  Grom looked between the pair, and the mimicked Ellen’s surveying of the room. With a heavy, and a deep drink, he began to speak.

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