Master Mages Marriage - 68 A Waste of Money

“While I’m curious why the Crusaders are after you Master, I’m more interested in why no one is coming to see what all the ruckus was about. Your sound ward wouldn’t have stopped everything.” The barrier Nikolai lay down earlier only restricted the passage of physical damage and Magic. It couldn’t do anything about the vibrations generated by their combat and his Master’s initial wards melted as he began his attack.

“Typical. Boy, you have no idea where we are.” Etenani cracked his knuckles and reached for the glass of wine Nikolai poured. “Even now you lose track of your surroundings.”

“I’m not that bad.”

[Remember the Imperial Catacombs?] Seven lounged against a cupboard Nikolai had repaired. It was one of the first things to shatter in their fight, which also made it the most difficult to put back together. There were still a few scraps missing, turned to ash by Etenani’s fire.

“You can’t blame that on me. I was given poor directions.” Dark dungeons and tombs of past Emperors were not conducive to accurate path finding. He took several days to return from his ‘pilgrimage’ to the First Emperor’s tomb. “You know what makes me mad Seven? You actually had a map, yet you watched as I wandered around, misdirected.”

[Lost.] Seven grinned, drinking from a flask retrieved from the Fates knew where. He wasn’t interested in wines.

“Master Mages don’t get lost.” Nikolai declared, gathering scattered notes onto the table, shaking fingers a stark reminder of the time. He’d delayed his last dose for too long.

“You do.” Etenani chimed in, cheeks already flushed with wine. The old Mage was always a little drunk. Even on his best days. “Always have. I remember one time in… what was the name of that place? Oh yes, Losotesk. You tried to make a break for it but ended up wandering some Lich’s tomb.”

“It wasn’t a tomb Master. It was an altar for a Lich’s return. And I didn’t run away. You sent me into the depths of those ruins to search for food because you lost most of our supplies when we ran away from those necromancers.” When he reflected on his past, Nikolai couldn’t help but wonder about his strange apprenticeship. It was only after being drafted and joining the Imperial War College that he learned how Masters were supposed to behave. Too late to save himself, but enough for Jarek to sleep in peace.

“Irregardless, you wander without guidance.” Etenani smacked his lips with delight, eyes glowing at the precious vintage. “You’ve become much better at selecting wine though.”

During his apprenticeship, Nikolai would keep a flagon of wine or small cask of liquor on him to sate his Master’s thirst. He’d been on the verge of breaking the habit, but the extraordinary Aunt Natalia appeared and satisfying her cravings for alcohol was a task. She required fine vintages and smooth flavours while his Master would drink anything with even a little alcohol in it. Which was why the few bottles secreted in his bags of holding were so valuable.

“That’s because it’s not meant for you.” Nikolai groaned as the expensive drink trickled down his Master’s chin and onto his already stained clothing. “Must you waste it?”

“Wine’s to be enjoyed.” He grunted. “And what kind of apprentice doesn’t prepare nice offerings for their Master?”

“Apprentices who have to pay out of their own pocket. Apprentices who have to drag their drunken Master across half a Principality because he couldn’t wait to try a brandy that ended up being poisoned. Apprentices who have to dig through ancient ruins for an entire night because your Fates cursed pendant lights up for a glass of ancient whiskey.” Nikolai was almost shouting by the end, frustrated at how little Etenani had changed. “Master you’re almost a hundred and fifty now! You can’t keep going like this.”

“I always knew you cared boy.” Hand against heart, Etenani gazed at him with watery eyes and trembling lips.

“That’s disgusting Master.”

Etenani clicked his tongue, slumping back onto the bed. “You used to fall for that.”

“We somehow lost track…” Nikolai began, only to be interrupted by a cheerful Seven’s signs.

[You lost track.]

“Just stop. So where are we supposed to be Master?”

“An inn run by House Gagarin for their agents going into Arkhangelsk. Plenty of shady stuff goes down here. A few muffled thuds isn’t enough to even raise an eyebrow. Actually, most of them would sleep through anything in a drunken haze.” Since their disastrous military expedition to Senro, the Gagarin’s eyed the Suzdal’s like hawks. It wasn’t surprising for them to have a place like this in the town.

“Like you.”

“I am not a drunkard.”

Nikolai eyed his Master’s clothes, lips twisted in disappointment at the stink of alcohol. “Then your shirt is awfully fond of the hard stuff.”

Etenani looked down at his clothes in wonder, puzzlement twisting his brow. “What a waste.” He murmured and Nikolai had the sudden urge to throttle the old man.

With a great sigh, Nikolai studied his trembling fingers for a moment, reading his pocket watch to note down the time. Already delayed by two hours, he pulled a small packet of refined Stardust from his pocket and swallowed it with a grimace.

“I heard about what happened.” Etenani slammed his glass onto the table and gestured for Nikolai to pour more.

“Who told you?” Nikolai closed his eyes for a few seconds as the shaking subsided. He’d pored over Kazimierz’ notes, trying to understand the alchemical variations in his version of Stardust. The same Stardust he was now addicted to. There was no denying that Kazimierz was a genius, his creation somehow capable of building a dependency without impairing the target’s mental faculties. Nikolai still didn’t know how it worked, but following the directions listed in the notes and a short conversation with one of the alchemy experts on the Imperial Mage Council, he refined a small batch to stave off the addiction. Every dose was carefully calculated to wean him from the stuff, but the best estimates of his colleague placed the last dose eighteen to twenty-four months from now.

“You shouldn’t have sent your request to the Council if you wanted it kept a secret. Dog-face has loose lips.” Etenani said.

“She’s your cousin Master, and an expert in her field.” Master Olga was a peerless scholar who Nikolai respected. She also took his side against his Master in most situations. He would always defend her in return for that. Even if she looked like a sad puppy. Not the cute kind.

“Still looks like a dog.” Etenani echoed his thoughts. “Now that I’m so close to you I can feel the changes. What’s going on with your body? Atavism? No… your ancestors are from the Ekari lineage, but the Aura Grandmasters blood could have responded due to physical interaction with your girl.”

“I have not slept with her Master.” Nikolai hurriedly interjected. Once Etenani was stuck on a problem he would go around trying to dig up any information. He wouldn’t care if it was private or not. “I refined some royal blood and absorbed it… Please don’t waste the wine. Drink it or give it back. You have no idea how much it costs.”

Etenani straightened his cup, mouth snapping shut with a string of curses and furious attempts to wipe up the spilled wine. Which only served to stain his clothes further. “Boy, is that what the Son of Heaven is doing?”

[Please don’t ask.] Seven signed politely but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. The Hand had already lectured Nikolai for including Elya in his secrets but was willing to let it go due to her position as his fiancée and her lineage. The Suzdals were fiercely loyal to the Empire. For all their faults most of the great Houses were loyal to the Empire. Unfortunately that loyalty was expressed in whatever way they thought was best.

“Don’t glare at me punk! Fine I won’t ask but the boy is literally glowing in my Sight. Anyone within a hundred miles will be able to lock onto his signature.”

“I’m still figuring out how to hide myself Master, but the blood really is a state secret and I can’t tell you the details.” Nikolai topped his Master’s cup, hoping the wine would placate him.

It did.

Mollified and with a full cup in hand, Etenani scowled and stared out of the window. They sat in silence and Nikolai noted down the time it took for his trembling hands to stabilise. Marking down the progress of his addiction was important.

It was strange. All the addicts he’d seen would do anything for more, but in his case there was a distinct difference between the desires of his body and mind. Master Olga had sent a stack of letters that filled one of his drawers, demanding access to Kazimierz’ notes. She was slavering at the Anima’s approach which could produce such pinpoint results.

“What did you come here for Master?” Nikolai rose from the chair to stretch his legs. The trembling of his body sometimes caused painful cramps.

“I really came for the wedding.” The old Mage began, raising a hand to forestall Nikolai’s interruption. “And to gain some support. The Third Princess is making a bid for the Ministry of War. She wants to put her subordinate as Imperial Tribune.” House Etenani was closely tied to the Third Princess and despite his Master’s scholarly affectations, he cared deeply for his family. This wasn’t the first time he’d come to canvas Nikolai for support. However it was the first time he came for such an important position. The Tribune was the military commander in charge of the entire Ministry of War, elected by the Court with approval from the Son of Heaven. Under the guidelines set by the Emperor, a Tribune could even initiate a war of conquest or punitive raids in conjunction with the Ministry of the Exterior.

Nikolai snorted. “I’m not interested in getting involved with the Children of Heaven and their pursuit for power. Especially that snot-nosed brat. It’s why I accepted the mandate over Volhiniya.” The Son of Heaven would live for a long time still. Long enough that the next Emperor or Empress would only be chosen after a few decades. So much could change in that time that picking a side was pointless at present. So, even with the Emperor’s desire to test his Children, the sudden rise in conflicts amongst them was baffling. Only the royal family knew what was going on. Despite his position as one of the Emperor’s closest advisors, Nikolai was still in the dark. “Let her make the bid, but I made it clear to her last time. I. Am. Not. Getting. Involved.”

“You were very clear boy.” Etenani grinned slyly. Not many Nobles would get into a shouting match with the Children of Heaven. Especially with a twelve-year-old on the streets of the Capital in full view of the public. “But she’s willing to forgive you. She wants to unite the Duchies as a vassal state.” His eyebrows waggled, hinting at something more but Nikolai could only stare at his Master in confusion.

“Why would anyone want to get involved there?” the Ellaran Duchies were a quagmire. A patchwork of shifting alliances, strange laws of inheritance and even stranger customs. Mapmakers refused to detail the constantly changing borders of the various provinces and the Ministry of the Exterior created an entire department just to handle relations with the innumerable families, clans and warlords.

“Wulfgar is aiming to unite the Duchies, and he’s asked for the Empire’s help. Actually he’s asked for your help.” Etenani smiled.

Nikolai cursed. A lot. In all the languages he knew.

“That long eared Illyri lunatic! This is the favour he’s cashing in? He wants me to dip my fingers in a Civil War?” Remembering the foolish grin of his old friend was enough for Nikolai to stomp around the room. This was just like him. Inconsiderate and extravagant.

He muttered and fiddled with the strange Primer stone in his pocket. Wulfgar had helped him obtain it, almost at the cost of his life so if he was asking, Nikolai would have to help. This time at least. “That false elegant pretence and holier than thou attitude they put on seriously gets on my nerves. If it was up to me, I would never deal with them again. How can they claim to be more civilised than us? You know I was almost stabbed in a duel because I picked up a fork with the wrong fingers?”

[Who’s Wulfgar?] Seven asked once Nikolai calmed down, eyes shining at the prospect of an amusing story. Accidental stabbing always made him laugh.

“An old friend.” Nikolai sighed, glaring at his Master. “So who does little Princess Valentina want to make Tribune?”

Etenani thumped the table in his happiness and drank heavily from his cup. “I knew you’d come around. It’s an old friend of yours. Buzchev Lentov.”

[The Sabre Lord? I didn’t think the Third Princess had it in her. She’s really something to gain his allegiance.] Seven’s eyes widened in shock. Buzchev was a legendary General, stubborn and vicious to his enemies.

Nikolai groaned “Yes. She is ‘something’. Fates! That lunatic.”

“Don’t worry boy. He’s itching to meet you again. He missed you.”

“I bet.” Nikolai stared at the twinkling stars and wondered why he hadn’t stayed at the inn with Elya. “So, why are the Crusaders after you?”

“A minor misunderstanding that arose from a bet and poor communication.”

“How much did you scam them for?”

“It’s not my fault they can’t hold their drink!” Etenani glared indignantly, recounting the disastrous events which put him on their blacklist.

Crazy zealot Mages, an old friend out to conquer a nation and a drunkard of a Master.

It was almost like old times.

Unfortunately.