Fear stuck through Oldsgood’s heart when he first saw their faces. The innkeeper leapt backwards, drawing his own sword from underneath the bar counter. He flailed it wildly, unaware, uncertain, and out of frantic desperation. His hired hands came to his aid only too back away when they noticed their enemies red cloaks. Bandits and street-scum that we’re quickly dissuade by the sight of a regular army. He was alone.

  Inside the patrons and inspectors watched in awe. Fifty or so civillians were left in dead silence as they watched the world unfold.

  “You’re alive, you’re alive!”

  Oldsgood had to act fast as he tripped over a nearby chair and flicked open the lever below. In an instant the same popgun with the watcher below activated. In seconds any magic user in the tavern looked out in complete shock at the idea of the trap below. Some glanced on horrified, others confused with the presence of the magic draining stone.

  “How are you alive?!” He uttered in sheer terror.

  No reply came.

  “It’s not possible, I watched, I watched…..the lizard!!”

  It was madness, a sheer act of hopelessness that had leapt to him activating the trap again. Inside the inspectors looked up from their piggish grins and the satisfaction of Oldsgood’s luxury foods in even more shock. Another cursed as they grabbed their own weapons to confront the Inkeeper.

  “Are you?” an inspector asked. He was cut off partway through by the sound of a now frantic Oldsgood holding out his sword and attempting to swatt away the approaching imperials with his back to the wall.

  “The missing party” Laura replied. She tried to add to the dramatic entry stepping to the side to let more soldiers inside.

  Their eyes widened as they dropped their forks and looked up from full plates.

  “What happened?!” Another asked.

  Aloat gave them a prominent answer, dropping Dalious's severed head right onto their table. Ooze trickled like a river from the lacerations in the rotting corpse's skull. The gigantic creatures' fangs and puss made for quite the spectacle. Paxter too ordered more troops to take up arms in the nearby area.

  “We we’re delayed” she added with smug satisfaction.

  At this the crowd around them went wild. A few exclaimed with shock, others reeled back in horror. Curiously even more edged forward, captivated by the story infront.

  “Is that a Dalious?!” a peasant cried out in shock.

  The sight of the severed head horrified the innkeeper to the point of catatonic shock. His face completely paled to an almost marbly paste.

  “You killed it? I don’t understand…. You we’re dead, you we’re all dead!!” Oldsgood now raved.

  “It’s not possible…..it’s not.”

  Jan then stepped forward. Still in the presence of the watcher in one swift motion he swung his arm forward causing lighting to spark through and fry the magic seeping stone below. With one swift strike the chalky rock was blown into a pillar of dust.

  “What are you?” Oldsgood questioned with a gaping mouth.

  The entire room’s eyes widened. Even more gasps of confusion murmured through the crowd. Magic had just been performed in the very presence of a watcher. A stable-boy even knelt, confusing their presence for the dieties of old. Paxter let no time waste.

  “Soldier, arrest this man, he is the Dawnshire bandit”

  This brought even more shock and fame to the groups allure. The imperials gladly complied, grabbing hold of a shivering Oldsgood who then began to ramble about quands, messengers and ratlings in a curdled swine of twisting speech. He muttered to himself like a man possessed, transfixed on the fortunes of a world that should have been. Jan shudered to think of how they would deprive information out of the innkeeper’s lips, but Aloat glanced with disdain at the traitor's apron.

  More voices quavered. Laura gave an intrigued glance towards a nearby poster flaunting the Dawnshire cases reward money. She tore it down to roll up the paper and slip it up her sleeve. More shouts came from below as imperial soldiers began to pry crate-loads of quands from the hidden compartment Oldsgood had revealed. A trove worthy of millions now sprawled licks of gold at the parties feet. The innkeeper's own terror kept him from mourning such a loss. The inspectors however grawped even more at the sheer monetary value that had been spilled like common grain on the wood tiles.

  “I u…..” the lead imperial responded. He too was still in shock. Eyes darted from the Dalious to the quands, uncertain what to revere next.

  “How many inspectors are there with you?” the scribe followed through.

  The question snapped them back into reality. A few tightening their belts as their faces made a myriad of expressions.

  “We’re a small group, only fourteen or so…”

  “Good, you’ll be needed! You work for us now, take this letter and have it ridden to Dawnshire at once, then to the outlying borderposts, settlements and towns“

  The lead imperial grasped ahold of the writing and scanned it carefully. His eyes darted across the pages at lightning speed, each word driving more shock than the last. Then he pressed the pages with a small amount of shock into his companions hands and turned to speak.

  “This….this is a call for defense, you can’t be serious….”

  “You’re calling for the defence of Kag?”

  Silence met the room. A serious tone flowing through the air.

  “This would mobilize thousands of troops, if not hundreds of thousands, on who’s authority?” Another inspector questioned.

  He himself looked to be around the rank of Captain with a proud golden emblem stitched into his uniform. Both concern and disbelief laced his lips.

  “You dare question our authority!! Five Star Fleet Commander Jan Theric, CORE Epiditionary Force, Enforcer Grade 1, Liberator of Armies! Killer of Monsters, Consul For The Archmage!” Sill screamed for all to hear.

  “Me , also me, I’m here!” Aloat stood on a chair and waved.

  The rest of the rock’s words we’re just plain gibberish.

  All eyes focused on the young scribe, even Aloat who had been proudly gesteruing to her own Sheriff emblem for proof. The presence of a percieved inanimate threw even more individuals into a loop with Sill’s open appearance driving both more validation and confusion into the crowd. The sheer bizarre nature of events made the party seem like a formidable group.

  The inspector backed up to tilt his head in adherence. He could barely understand a single word the tiny rock-creature had said but he was well-versed to know inanimate were not dolled out to single troops, let alone the title Consul.

  “How?”

  Paxter stepped forward. Civilians were still in the room but this required a sense of urgency that merited a brash response.

  Aloat and Laura slammed down maps onto the nearest table. Plates of food and goblets sprayed onto the floor. The frayed parchment was expertly detailed and looked as though commissioned by professional guilds. Every notch and stitch rang like true artwork with tiny artistic figures to represent fielded armies and a scaryingly accurate depiction of the geographical landscape. Miniature trees were etched into a canvas of green, with passionate brushstrokes to symbolize even the fainest divet in the surrounding mountainscape. The gold crest on the pages side aswell as the insurmountable detail likely proved these were stolen from Nuem’s stores.

  The battle-maps were as intricate as they were deadly. Clearly marked and etched in fine ink, it revealed a complete overview of both topographic landscape and population density. In total fifty circulating “battalions” of enemy troops were labeled near fifty. There were even list-like descriptors of the participating armies. Names and titles revealed a mix of humans and creatures unseen to ever so much as attack a village let alone march to war. In total a numerical estimate on the side totaled the amount to some three hundred thousand. Laura had double checked their addition twice. Among the splotty written contrivations included ratlings, buglings, siltabears, mercenaries and even ominously written “fleshies”. There were even maps for counter attacks on Wei, the Arlon, further kingdoms reaching to the south and west that may come to imperial aid.

  “This……this is an invasion?” the Captain responded, dumbfounded. His own cloak and clothes were still stained with gravy from a steak meal. He bore Longsa’s coat of arms, likely sent from her own personal battalion.

  “Two hundred k is easy Commander!! We’re gonna fry em all!!!” Sill whispered in their ears.

  “Who? Who could..” He stared more intently at the delicate lines.

  What was even more frightening was their location. According to the plans entire contingents lay in wait, miles behind imperial borders, snuck into the crests of valleys and sheltered towns. Some had even sacked entire settlements without a hint of notice from the imperial crown. Beverton, an outpost of some five thousand soldiers was already marked captured, with a sprawl of hamlets and border crossing marked red. This was the kind of operation that would have taken decades to plan and required an enemy system so corrupt little remained that wasn’t rotten to the core.

  “The information is outdated but entirely correct, our enemy will likely shift it’s plans but with so little time, I can’t imagine it by much” Aloat added carefully.

  The entire room seemed to learn forward, peering over the same death-scrawled parchment in a blanketed murmor. At least those who could understand the importance of the plans looked on in earnest contemplation. It was death, death of hope and death of country.

  “The changing has been taken under control by something, else, something new, their leader is a man named Primelord Nuem, they plan to attack and are likely to reach Kag in three days”

  “Why?” more inspectors questioned.

  It was a name with no meaning. Of the countless enemies the kingdom had mustered over centuries of bloodshed, trading and politics, Nuem wasn’t even on the table. Now a few sheds of paper showed a society brough to its knees with little to no explanation.

  “Just yesterday we slew a force of two thousand ratlings, we obtained these plans from their corpses, we can assume the information is compromised but they should give a good technical readout, we’ve made copies of important details to be sent to the capital” Paxter added.

  “Not to mention generated electric charge!!” Sill screamed.

  Another studied the maps in increasing detail. Oldsgood stood witness to the words infront. He too seemed a little shocked by the depth of their depravity. He was bound and tied like a hunted game, already being forced into a prisoners crouch.

  “This calls for an attack on everything, even the capital won’t be spared, for it to have gone unnoticed would mean treason…it’s madness, to even believe!”

  “The Captial doesn’t have time, it’s on its own, this is about Kag now” Aloat said glumly.

  It was a seditious thought but one that overwrote the blind loyalty the group had often paraded in their daily lives. No one questioned Aloat’s words.

  “You speaks of us like dead men?”

  “Who even is our enemy?” another replied.

  “Sill, knows, Sill who is our enemy? Tell them” Jan replied.

  An entire room waited with open ears. They would cling to the rock’s every word.

  “It’s quite simple Jannic lowlifes and other commandeered primitives!! and most esteemed Commanders Jan and Laura!!!! These parasites are under the control of a sentient hive-mind invented by the master, we’ve been fighting the _____________ REDACTED___________ REDACTED__________zshshsh”

  “And who is the Master?” Jan replied in a questioning tone.

  The entire room was transfixed on their position and most certainly waiting for a more detailed response.

  “_______REDACTED_______Zsh…zsh, Sorry Commander there is still a sizable blocker on my memory in case I fall into Jannic hands!”

  “What about CORE? Who are these CORE you talk about?”

  “Sure Commander!! One moment REDACTED______________Zshsh_________zsh shshsh”

  More static echoed through. Paxter and Aloat practically beamed with pride at the young rock’s failure. Skepticism driven into their blood. Laura and Jan however, slinked with embarrassment.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  This was quite obviously not the best response.

  “What Master? All I know if is Nuem I swear!” Oldsgood replied.

  The others ignored him. They would interrogate the man later

  More words cascaded around them.

  “We’re to believe a broken inanimate word? What do you take us to be Arlon's lackeys? A disease? A disease can’t think, can’t reason? You give us one infected brute and expect us to believe a madman’s tale!” more replies cascaded.

  “All you have for proof are these maps!! One diseased lizard isn’t anything!” another added quickly.

  “You even mentioned Laundre was killed? It’s impossible! A lower noble could not be replaced?”

  The soldiers from Jan’s contigent didn’t take light to this, erupting in shouts at their skeptical allies. They erupted into a full chaos of conversations. Each with their own desire to be heard over the other. SIll remained silent. Seemingly not wanting to share its insight with such a non-secrative crowd.

  “Do you believe in authority?” Aloat shouted.

  The crowd quieted at her speech. Then turning to Jan she let the consul speak in a rare act of kindness. The scribe however had little experience in public discourse and shied from their prying eyes.

  “Don’t worry Commander!!! You’ll get the hang of leading in the far future!!” Sill cried.

  “Repeat after me, this is how we lead an army!!” the tiny rock whispered.

  “Jan I swear to got you better not be taking advice from demon rock over there?” Aloat spat out the side of her mouth while no one was looking.

  The scribe ignored her and followed. Still his stomach felt queasy from the embarrassment of talking to such a large crowd. He re-iterated Sil’s words as evenly as possible but it still came out blocky and disoriented.

  “Three years ago, seventeen legions we’re called when an army of 10,000 broke through those borders. Today we fight an army of over twenty times that size! I am the greatest authority in this room and I say we fight. If we fail there will be no recovery, we will become slaves to this disease, and if we have to fight down the very last sword so be it!!” Jan tried to say with as much confidence as possible.

  A few soldiers from the pit nodded in the background seemingly enamoured by their leader.

  “Grab them, we’ll test them one by one…no one can be trusted until we are sure” Jan replied added.

  This wasn’t Sill but his own paranoia seeping through.

  The inspectors looked horrified at this until they realized what was happening. One by one they took sips from a flask containing the cure. The first four were fine. The sixth however, erupted into a fever the moment the liquid touched their lips. The rest felt nothing and simply complained of the taste. Still the idea of one of their ranks being infected, even with a milder form of the disease, spread an aura of fear and paranoia among them. The man with the fever protested, only to be helped by two soldiers to finish the larger flask. It was likely he had been under the influence, infected but only subject to the master’s strings when a guiding hand arrived. They had tested their own troops for the disease on the march over. Six had been infected, with the troops stopping twice for them to down a copious amount of cure and barf a splashing ooze.

  There was no adequate response to what this meant.

  Only after all of the inspectors had been tested in which Jan spoke again.

  “How much cure do we have left?”

  “Nuem had six barrells, it would be enough for a month or two of a daily ration for our eighty troops” Paxter replied.

  “We need to be able to trust our soldiers, we need to make more, alot more” Jan replied in instant.

  The others began to bicker while the Captain tried to regain his footing. He was still struggling to comprehend the dump of information that had sweltered at their feet. The thought of his closest friend having been puppeted under some foreign control did not sit well.

  “The Alchemical breweries in Kag are barely able to conjure up more than sixty gallons a day, will that be enough?” Laura inquired.

  “60 gallons × 256 = 15,360 teaspoons in total Commanders!! If we fully mobilize Kag’s armies we will have an estimated hundred thousand troops, we’ll run out of rationed doses within three to four hours!”

  The entire group stopped at this for a moment of contemplation. Panic set in over the logistical nightmare.

  “I can do it!” Laura replied in a state of both panic and confidence.

  The others looked at her in a set of intrigued glances. Her presence quieted the room.

  “Do what?” Aloat and Jan almost suprted out in unison.

  She straightened her back, trying to find confidence in herself to utter the next few words.

  “I can come up with a better way to make it, we can maximize production and can meet the demands” Laura replied.

  A consensus was reached among the group who simply nodded at her response. This would be no small undertaking, and an insurmountable task akin to the plight of doctors during the Weilisian plague. Entire institutes, legions of researchers and academics had tried to no avail to find a way to mass produce changeling’s cure and short of a few tweaks to the original recipe it had remained predominantatly consistent throughout history. The famed Danat Vim who had first bottled the cure six thousand years prior had been a prodigy of the likes the world had never seen, spending months in a skeletal stupor, desperate to spit in the eyes of the gods and prove themselves against the horrors of their time. Vim had come from noble heritage, an aristocrat who stepped forth to uncover the secret’s of their world. She died at the age of sixty three doing what she loved, waist deep in alchemical fluid after a vat explosion, having spent thirty-six hours straight to cure an entire city of an ailment that could hardly be perceived. Laura however, was just a person with a dream. Also sometime who did not have sixty three years to hone her skills in chemistry. Regardless, necessity would foster many inventions.

  “With Sill’s help of course!!” She added to stave off the pressure.

  “Yes Commander Laura!!! We can get cracking!! Some regular chemistry or Antihelminthic agents and we’ll have these parasites gone in no time!!!””

  Relief spread around the room. Still Aloat and many others we’re increasingly nervous about the idea of having an inanimate in their midst. The creature seemed to speak in gibberish, twice referring to Jan as a member of “CORE” as if the jumble of words was supposed to mean something and then referring more to it’s code of honour when asked what the saying meant. Laura however secretly felt both terrified and eager at the undertaking she had just pledged. Greater names had been forged on lesser deeds and perhaps the Lanu name would be uttered with respect oncemore.

  Suddenly Aloat turned to face a scrawny silk tunic wearing peasant who had been dining on chicken soup in the corner.

  “You there? Are you a reporter”

  The man gulped, clearly having overheard all of their past conversations, he had an unscrupulous amount of dot jot notes on a single page. So much so it looked as thought a great big sqiggle had encompassed the whole page.

  “Sam Herald…. Whyyy?” He replied with a hint of fright.

  Without a moment’s notice the Sheriff grabbed him by the scuff of his neck and thrust a handful of Jan’s papers into his arms. He stared at the jumble of words like they were some diabolical curse and struggled to his feet.

  “Congratulations you’re being conscripted as official chronicler for the next three days!”

  The man let his mouth slide open in protest.

  “No buts….I’m not saving a city twice just because you missed all the good parts!” Aloat replied.

  He struggled to shuffle through Jan’s past autobiography writings to have the pages fluster into a seemingly sentient volcano of words. Then he slunk back behind a Sheriff who continued to bark orders.

  “I want sixty more pages, double spaced with large margins! You’ll be paid twelve quands a page, I’ll be making alot of edits!!!”

  Laura and Jan smiled at this, with the scribe happy that another had been tasked with picking up the horrid task of Aloat’s chief cheerleader. Clearing his through of all writing morals, and traditional ethical ediquette the man began to read what horrors he had been left to salvage.

  “Fortune favours the bold!!, No… fame favours the bold!” She shouted at the poor man.

  “Don’t write that down, Also make sure you write about the part whe’re we killed the Dalious, Laura and Jan mentioned afterwards!!”

  “Can you draw too? I want a quick sketch of the lizards head!”

  “Oh and make sure you get how definitively evil THIS ROCK is” Aloat shouted again for the others to hear. She pointed like a child at the stone on the table.

  “Jannic lowlives! It is the pompous jannic that is evil!! I….”

  Two hours passed. Even more bickering from the rock and Aloat was almost enough for both of them to be kicked out of the inn for a few hours to cool off. It was only once the conversations and murmurs hushed did the group sit down and hash out a plan. They tried to take as much insight from the troops and whoever they could as possible. What civillians remained were refunded and kicked out and the premises was checked for spies before they began. The troops fully occupied the inn’s vast premesis, taking whatever they wanted from it’s lushly stocked pantry and dining on it’s fine ale and pleasantries. A now tied up Oldsgood struggled and shouted like a worm on the floor while imported cheese, fruit, fresh poultry, lamb, salted ham, artisanal breads and an army sized stew was dolled out to the beliguiered troops. Still without rest many contemplated taking up barracks in the Plucky ducks vast network of rooms only to remain vigilant from the thought of the army at their backs. The once lavish inn was however quickly trashed by a restless force, who both enjoyed its many amenities and had not the faintest care for its inside.

  Fourteen riders were sent out copies of the maps and a call for aid strapped to horses. They were sent in two, in case of betrayal or treason by one of its riders. Jan had made the decision to mix the more wounded soldiers from the pit with inquisitors to ensure their loyalty. The Inquisitor Captain by the name of Merle, agreed to accompany them to Kag and start the preparation of defences. He was a stout and seemingly greedy beaurocrat who looked like he had never spent more than a week out of the comforts of a ministry office. His ideas were good enough, however, already he adjusted their plans to take them on a faster route that would pass through a number of outlying border outposts and towns. Easily they could strip the useless encampments of their troops and fall back towards the city.

  Horses were taken from the surrounding lands, villagers reimbursed from the economy, breaking the amount of money which had been squirrelled away in Oldsgood’s hoard. Surprisingly Maple was stil alive and the stead practically licked Jan to death the moment the two came into contact. In total they had just enough to outfit the entire contingent, turning the force into a formidable calvary. Paxter tried his best to advise the surrounding peasants and merchants to make for cities and towns untouched in Nuem’s maps. There were a few large settlements and regions whose forces would be completely ignored and marked as safe havens for now. Still the looming force on the horizon made this a fools gambit. Certain death approached on the horizon.

  It was only before they were about to leave that the three made Oldsgood identify where he had buried Kiff’s body.

  “Commander, would you like me to say a few words? I can issue directive 301, this Kiff Jannic can be commemorated for his service against the master in one of our orbital graveyards. His name will rest in union with millions who have fought the creature’s hoarde”

  “No it’s okay rock” Aloat muttered back as an answer.

  “Ignoring terrible Jannic! I submitted the request, Commander!! In 146 years he will rest among the heavens!”

  The thought of their dead friend hung like a cloud of guilt over their every word.

  The Sheriff was the first one to grab a shovel.

  “He was buried there, I swear, he was dead when I reached him, a clean death.” Oldsgood puttered.

  Jan stared daggers into the man’s heart. Still he could tell there was nothing but a mask where the innkeeper's sad eyes paraded their lies. Laura and Aloat too fumed in hatred.

  Only once they removed the cloth wrapped body and double checked the remains with sorrow filled eyes did they move forward. Kiff’s frail remains felt like a husk of joy, scraped out by an unjust world.

  “Inkeeper, I want you to sit in the grave”

  Silence met their soldiers' ranks. Some hundred watched him from the horsetop, packed and ready to ride to the city's defense. Paxter didn’t say anything. He looked away, staring towards the clouds in an admission of guilt. Oldsgood quivered. The once proud man had been reduced to a bubbling mess.

  “I want you to see something,” Jan replied simply.

  The entire forest seemed to quell in thought. A steep, thick quiet echoing across the landscape.

  “What do you plan on doing?” Aloat questioned. She didn’t ask abraisively, simply taking time to formulate the words in her head. She seemed to be in a perplexed state, the logical part of her brain comprehending things better than her emotional core.

  “I can help too,” Laura replied.

  The two shrugged. Their eyes darting back and forth from the wrapped body, a few of Kiff’s personal effects were taken from the boy’s corpse to be delivered to his father. If they survived a portion of the Dawnshire bandits' stolen wealth would be allocated towards the family, the three would make sure of it. Still no amount of tainted quands could make up for a life lost, or the wasted sacrifices that had been made in the hopes of lost dreams.

  They held hands. Combining magical force to create something truly spectacular. More troups, any that could channel, dismounted from their horses to join them. The Captain, Paxter and at least ten others, even those whose magical talents had never been honed further than the age of three tried to contribute. A passionate emotion of loss strung through the air as Kiff’s body began to float. Aloat let a tear sleek down her face. Oldsgood’s eyes flashed with a sense of guilt for the first time in a long while while the dead boy’s corpse metamorphosed.

  [Greater Healing 3000000] – (Edits to MAGIC SYSTEM - SEE AUTHOR NOTE)

  Rotten flesh was replaced with new, any hint of progression or destruction simply faded. Healed. The lacerations where the tree had slammed into Kiff faded into oblivion. Then in a state of perfect stasis he began to rise to the heavens, only for the grave below to begin to transform. Mud became brick, air became glass and in seconds a magnificent transparent casket formed like a golden chrysalis around their fallen friend.

  It was beautiful.

  Flower’s licked the casket’s edge, a vibrant green soaking the grass like an expansive puddle. Violet, blue and purple cascaded among the pedals heads. Kiff’s name was etched in stone at the bottom, a poignant reminder immortalized by the roadside. Others around Jan opened their eyes, the consul having directed their magical powers to his own creation. The warm flow from the face inside make it seem like the young soldier was only seconds away from breathing, sleeping as they waited for a gateway into the next life.

  Oldsgood was kneeling now, begging for mercy at the foot of a dead man’s grave.

  “What did we do?” Laura asked in shock.

  “Preserve him why?” another pipped up.

  For a moment only the wind spoke.

  “Ill be back” Jan replied coldly.

  Aloat froze. Laura too. The entire group halted. A few felt more exhausted from the venture. Most surprisingly we’re okay. All hundred soldiers overheard and their mouths gaped at both the callous impunity and death defying gravity of the three words. That was dangerous talk. Even more mulled over the Consul’s words with a hint of fear and admiration.

  Paxter was the first to interrupt. He placed an arm on both Aloat and Jan.

  “Look guys, this may be fancy but you can’t stop death, whatever happened was no one’s fault, it was just mean’t to happen. How many people died in that pit back there? Must have been hundreds, are you going to build a sarcophagus for them too? What do they not have families? Going to make a promise to spit in the eyes of the gods and bring them back too?”

  “You can’t bring back the dead Commander!!! Even with this cursed anamolies help!!!!” Sill remarked solemnly.

  For once Paxter agreed with the demonic rock and nodded his head slowly.

  “You got your revenge through the Dalious's head in that soldier's backpack right now.”

  The soldier in question looked a little queasy. No reply came. They both however seemed to agree with his last statement.

  “What of Oldsgood?” Aloat spat. She was clearly trying to change the conversation but the state of Kiff in his glistening mausoleum was unnerving. He looked asleep, resting, like at any moment he would open his eyes and laugh in their sad faces.

  “Killing him won’t make it better either” Paxter replied.

  Oldsgood heard this and nodded furiously.

  “I don’t know about that,” Aloat muttered.

  Little response came from below.

  “I can tell you more!! I’ve worked for them for years, years! You don’t understand how it communicates! I know movements, I know details that these maps can’t beg to tell!! Please! I can help!......” Oldsgood began to plead.

  “He’ll be hung in Kag anyway, you know that right?” Laura asked.

  Then Aloat smiled as she saw some rope.

  Ten minutes later they were on the road to Kag. Oldsgood sat tied like a flat pancake to the back of a horse. Alive and kicking but furiously tortured by the journey.

  30,000 quands alive or dead was alot of money.

  Laura turned to look at the copious amount of quands that now was being carefully paraded by caravan of saddle-bagged horses.

  We’ll, at least it was clean money.

  The idea is they still have no idea HOW magic works just that their weaving mana, which is really critical because how it works is a spoiler but they have a quantification and more concrete limitation system than Jan ate a big breakfast and now he can break open the world yk? So Jan being a prodigy can do spells worth a maximum of levitation [1000], equivalent to levitating a thousand 1kg rocks.

  Excerpt From Rewritten Portion of Book:

  The premise was simple, there was little to no consensus as to how magic actually worked, only that it was limited by two factors: mana and creativity. Different streams of power could fabricate effects, with common actions being lumped into spells. There were nine common tiers of power, or at least that was the scale Kag used, anything greater than that was labelled complex (Not to be confused with Wei’s 12 tiers or Arlon’s Six) with most textbooks cramming like-wise activities together. Levitate a one kilogram stone, that’s [Levitate 1], three [Levitate 3], nine, [Levitate 9]. Inventing a new spell was sort of akin to naming a new creature; however larger guilds and spellbook publishing companies were starting to become sticklers for the rules. Most recently a Kag Academic had invented [Bookbinding 3] a mundane lesser spell to help with scribes. Sort of the low-hanging fruit of the magical academia world which derived its namesake because it “binded books” and had a usage is roughly equivalent to levitating three one kilogram objects simultaneously.

  [Greater Reconstruction Tier 81]

  Let’s just say there were no amateurs here. In seconds, Jan’s palm clenched, and the floating fruit ripped apart. Juice showered the alleyway as spindling weaves of apple flesh withered in the air.

  Crud. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  He could likely levitate six hundred or so apples before collapse, a prodigal amount above normal but his mana reserves were equated to a mere eight of what a traditional fully grown battle-mage would traditionally hold.

  [Greater Reconstruction Tier 507?]

  Still, there was a reason the naming convention was adhered to so strictly. Just days prior, eight Wei mages had died by mana-burn after attempting to try a tier 1000 spell. In Wei magic was based on a cultivation scale, with the standard unit being how much mana was needed to grow an average single wheat stalk. A single translation error from a Kag spellbook and [Golem Construct 1000 1kg rock levitate] is equivalized to [Golem Construction 8733 wheat stalks]. Not great.

  What do you think? Already way too wordy! But this was my solution! I don't want to transition to a litrpg, but we'll have to see!