Endric I - A Brief Return Home

"Little do others care for your comfort, nor does duty wait for your readiness. Embrace the storm with resolve. Your true strength lies in facing every trial, with unwavering determination."

– Ancient Rucitanian proverb, 82 FC

How many poems or songs had they written about the sea? Endric Aragaust wondered. Always romanticizing the briny air, the orderly chaos of the waves, the moon reflecting its pale glow off the water. What a load of nethering shit, he concluded. He was tired of the never-ending rocking of the boat making him nauseous. He was tired of the hardtack he was subjected to eat—how could anyone even call that food? He was tired of always being either too hot during the day or too cold at night. But most of all, he missed home. He concluded he would never leave Alustria again. Besides, not like there was much for him outside of Alustria, and the memories made outside were ones he’d rather forget.

As he stood on the deck of the galley, Endric's stormy gray eyes scanned the horizon, bent over the guardrail of the boat, his finger tapped frantically against the wooden beam. The ship, a sturdy galley with tall masts and billowing sails, creaked and groaned as it navigated the mouth of the river Palad, leaving the vast, open sea behind. The river's calmer waters provided some relief from the relentless motion of the sea, but the briny scent of salt still clung to everything.

They were so close to Alustria now. A gust of wind sent a strand of his light brown hair loose, falling over his forehead past his nose. He struggled to get it back in place, fighting for some desperate attempt to impose some semblance of control over the unruly world around him. It was a small victory, but one that helped him maintain his grip on sanity amidst the chaos.

He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to him as tightly as the salt to his skin. He could almost hear Philoma’s voice singing in the Tower Citadel Gardens. It had been three months since he last heard her sing. Oh Almighty above, that’s all he wanted right now, yet he feared that when he returned she wouldn’t be waiting for him in the gardens. That someone else had picked that flower of his. Lightning crackled between his fingers, and he chastised himself for such an imprudent use of arcana. Then he realized the arcana in the air, and relief washed over him.The words of Endrics former tutor rang in his mind's eye, “An Arcanist outside the breath of the Temple Towers, is like a fish out of the water.” Finally, Endric could breathe, not just air, but the sweet scent of Arcana, the air filled his lungs, and the arcana his heart, providing a cool soothing sensation, and Endric found himself pitying those undignified to breathe the divine breath. What a pity they will never know the euphoria, the wholeness, nay the oneness. He felt complete again, and the frantic tapping of his fingers ceased. He was safe. 

Despite being early in the Storm Season, the sky was clear and the sun harassed Endric. He wore his all-black inquisitor uniform in defiance against the heat. The black doublet, fastened meticulously, covered a white chemise underneath. His black pants were tailored to fit perfectly, and his heavy black boots were scuffed from travel but well-maintained. He refused to wear his cloak or wide-brimmed hat in this heat, but his hands were always covered by his black gloves.

Around him, sailors worked frantically, their movements purposeful and hurried as they prepared the ship for docking within the next few hours. Ropes were coiled and secured, sails were furled, and orders were shouted back and forth from the poop deck, the captain looming over from his perch like some war chief. The atmosphere was one of controlled chaos. Among the human sailors were the Thal slaves, a head shorter than the average human, but a whole body wider. With broad sloped heads, wide upturned noses, and bushy beards only under their chin. Dark hair and eyes, that held both the shame of their ancestors, and the humble acceptance of their fate.

Endric thought about maybe actually filling out the report, but something in him prevented it. He would motion to claim his journal out from his bag, yet, would stop halfway, everytime. He wanted to laugh at himself, but his smile faded, partway through. Then the memories of Northern Khamet would return. Those Nethering Karthists deserved it. Blood filled his mind's eye. Splatters across the wall, corpses crisped, cloven in two, or impaled with salt spires. He did all he could to hold back the tears. He succeeded all but one. A single crystalline drop fell down his cheek. The sole embodiment of his pain. The sole show of mourning. Those victims did not deserve any of it, but Endric was too late. He wasn't fast enough. The only consolation was that those Karthist’s saw the Almighty’s sword of Justice in the end. And Endric swung it, without hesitation. Without mercy. 

"Dreaming of dry land already, Mage Araguast?" a familiar voice called out.

Endric Araguast blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, turned to see Paramage Tabi son of Tabi approaching him, hobbling across the forward deck, dodging sailors clumsily, swaying with the rocking of the boat. Tabi was a short, broad-shouldered young man, three years younger than Endric at twenty-one years of age. He was bald despite his youth, and his facial features were soft, pudgy almost. He wore a perpetual nervous grin that seemed immune to any misfortune.

"Tabi," Endric acknowledged with a nod. "I was just thinking about how much I hate the sea, actually."

Tabi nodded his head. "You and me both. But it won't be long now. We'll be back in Alustria before Zenith."

"I know," Endric said, glancing again at the horizon. "I’m done with this."

“Done, sir?”

Endric pursed his lips. “Forget it, Paramage. I’m speaking nonsense. Would you do me a favor and get my belongings packed? I need to finish writing this report for Archmage Talimane.”

Endric noticed a small flicker of annoyance flash on Tabi’s face, but as fast as a lightning bolt it was gone. “Of course, Mage Aragaust.” Tabi turned, hastily, and departed, disappearing under the deck. 

Endric scoffed. Perhaps he should get that report filled out. Maybe he’d find some catharsis in it too. Or at least that was the lie he told himself to push through it. Reaching into his pack, he didn't stop himself this time. He procured his journal, and opened to the latest page. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his pen, and poured arcana into the device, and when the tip of the pen hit the paper, lines formed where the pen moved. Carefully he wrote, with the rocking of the boat. And in thirty minutes, his report was completed. 

See it wasn’t so bad. He thought. And when he looked up from the journal, he could see Alustria in the distance. And a smile curved his lips. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Alustria was unlike any city in Rucitania. The capital of the High Kingdom. stone spires rose out from the ground, like testaments to dwarven engineering. Sixty three towers rose, yet one rose above all else, scraping the very clouds themselves. In the center of the city the Tower Citadel, like a mountain it climbed. It was square and tiered, with all other towers not surpassing the third of its eight tiers. Each layer being like a town of its own. Built well over 2000 years ago with the combined labor of humans, dwarves, and thals. At the Pinnacle of the Tower, a light shone bright as truth. The first God Tear Gem. the Lamentation itself.

As the ship drew closer to the docks of Alustria, the activity on deck intensified. Sailors scrambled to secure lines and prepare for docking. The captain barked orders from the poop deck, his voice a commanding presence that cut through the din. Thal slaves moved with mechanical precision, their movements synchronized and efficient, in contrast to the chaotic energy of the human sailors. The sight of the bustling city brought a sense of urgency and anticipation to everyone on board.

Endric felt a wave of relief as the ship finally docked. The gangplank was lowered, and the crew began the process of unloading. Amidst the frenzied activity, Tabi reappeared, his perpetual grin in place despite the sweat glistening on his brow.

"All packed, Mage Endric," Tabi reported, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the docks.

Endric nodded, closing his journal and tucking it back into his pack. "Good. Take my luggage to my quarters on the third tier of the Tower Citadel. You know the way."

Tabi’s grin widened slightly, and Endric couldn't really tell why. "Of course, Mage Endric. I'll see to it immediately." He hefted the pack and made his way down the gangplank, skillfully navigating through the throng of dockworkers and sailors.

Endric lingered on deck for a moment, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of Alustria. The city's towering spires and the majestic Tower Citadel were a welcome sight after the monotony of the sea. But then with a determined stride, Endric made his way through the bustling streets, heading towards one of his favorite alehouses. The city was alive with activity, merchants hawking their wares, children playing in the streets, and the occasional patrol of city guards ensuring order; most people, however, gave way to Endric, recognizing his iconic Inquisitor Blacks. But Endric barely noticed any of it, his thoughts focused on the promise of a quiet corner and a strong drink. 

The alehouse was a modest establishment, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, which read Iva’s Place. Inside, the air was filled with the comforting smells of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. Endric found a seat at the bar and ordered a bitter Red Rosolio, a drink known for its sharp, tangy flavor, which required slow sipping. The bartender, a burly man with a thick beard, nodded and quickly poured the drink, setting it down in front of Endric with a knowing smile. Endric placed the two copper guilders for the rosolio, and one more in the man's hand. The equivalent of a loaf of bread. The bartender nodded appreciatively and left Endric to sip his libation in peace. 

Endric took a slow sip, savoring the bitterness that seemed to cut through the haze of his thoughts. He let out a sigh, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. The alehouse was dimly lit and relatively quiet, with only a few patrons scattered around, engaged in hushed conversations or quietly nursing their own drinks. And perhaps that's why Endric liked this place. Perhaps it wasn't as clean as he preferred, or lacked a good selection, but everyone minded their own nethering business. Hard to pay for that kind of luxury, especially when you bore the name Aragaust.

As he sat there, nursing his Red Rosolio, Endric allowed himself to relax, if only for a moment. The weight of the memories of his recent mission still lingered, but for now, he could push them aside and find a semblance of peace. When he finished the first cup, it wasn't long before another was put in front of him, this time, with bread, cheese, and a thinly cut aged sausage. Endric instinctively pulled out a half shilling, the copper coin with a silver ring, bounced off the table dramatically. Almost ten times the amount of what all this was worth, and almost a fifth of his daily wages as an Arcanist. 

“Keep them coming.” Endric said with as much finality, as he could.

The bartender salivated at the mouth. “Of course Master Mage, we’ve missed you quite a bit. Glad you are back.” scooping up the coin, he retired behind the bar. 

It wasn't long before the bread, aged sausage, and cheese were gone, then the Rosolio. And when that rosolio was gone, another was brought to the table. Yet despite two rosolios in, the nethering memories wouldn’t fade. Not even the Divine Breath that was heavy in Alustria soothed him. It was all a lie, there is no peace to be found in this world. “Damn it all.” he muttered under his breath. The buzz always helped. Maybe he’d require more than a buzz this time. Then everyone in the bar stopped, as bells began to ring. They resonated like a war drum throughout Alustria, and all stopped. Everyone dropped to their knees, all except Endric. Zenith. 

Together the whole city chanted as one,
Eternal Guardian, as the sun reaches its zenith,
Shine Your light upon us, dispelling the shadows of doubt and fear.
Grant us clarity of mind and purity of heart,
So we may carry out our duties with unwavering faith.
May our actions reflect Your justice and mercy,
And our words be a testament to Your truth.
We renew our dedication to Your divine purpose.
In the name of the Divine One, we pray

When the prayer concluded every returned to their libation. No one looked at Endric funny for not partaking. Yes he did like this place.

Time seemed to blur as he continued to drink, the Red Rosolio burning a path down his throat, leaving a comforting warmth in its wake. The alcohol dulled the edges of his thoughts, softening the sharp memories of Northern Khamet, not from efficacy Endric thought, but by just dulling the mind beyond the point of reason. Endric lost track of time. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to sway slightly, mimicking the motion of the boat he had just disembarked from. Faces around him became indistinct, mere shadows in the dim light. He felt a hand on his shoulder, firm yet gentle, and turned to see Tabi's concerned face swimming into focus.

"Mage Aragaust, it's time to go," Tabi's voice sounded distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. Endric nodded sluggishly, attempting to stand but wobbling on his feet. Tabi moved quickly to support him, guiding him out of the alehouse with practiced ease.

The journey back to the Tower Citadel was a haze. Endric could barely keep his eyes open as they navigated through the bustling streets of Alustria. Tabi's steady presence was a lifeline, his arm around Endric's shoulder, providing the support he desperately needed. The imposing figure of the Tower Citadel loomed ahead, its spires reaching towards the sky like accusing fingers.

"Just a little further, Mage Aragaust," Tabi encouraged, his voice steady and reassuring.

They entered the Citadel discreetly, avoiding any prying eyes. Tabi led Endric through the familiar halls and up to his quarters on the third tier. They avoided the busy lifts, and took the stairs instead, much to Endric chagrin. Then Endric found himself in his room, the doors closed behind them, shutting out the world. Tabi gently lowered Endric onto his bed, the mattress. And then the spinning intensified. 

"Rest now, Mage Aragaust," Tabi said quietly, adjusting the pillows and making sure Endric was comfortable.

Endric mumbled something incoherent, his eyes already closing. The room spun around him, the edges of his vision darkening. He felt Tabi's presence fade as the paramage left the room, leaving him alone in the quiet darkness. The last thing he was aware of was the soothing hum of the arcana-infused air, a lullaby that gently pulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

…

A loud, insistent knock at the door shattered the quiet of Endric’s room. Groaning, he stirred, his head pounding with the telltale signs of a hangover. He ignored the urge to use a Restoration invocation of Fire and Water, preferring to suffer for reasons he couldn't quite articulate.

The knocking persisted. With a heavy sigh, Endric forced himself up and stumbled to the door. Standing there, clad in his pristine Inquisitor Blacks, was Primemage Madrian, his expression a blend of irritation and disdain. He looked at Endric with expectant eyes, as if Endric would salute him. 

"Mage Aragaust," Madrian began without preamble, "you were instructed to report to Archmage Talimane upon your arrival. It is nearly midnight, and you have yet to present yourself."

Endric said nothing, merely staring at Madrian with bleary eyes. He didn't care to defend himself or offer excuses. He simply didn't have the energy or the will. Madrian’s scolding washed over him like a wave, leaving no lasting impression. Primemage Madrian, was also referred to, as an Empty suit of armor, among the 5th Ring of the Inquisitors. He was second in command to Archmage Talimagne, and would follow any command given to him by his superiors. He was well into his forties, with a neatly trimmed beard, that curled at the tips of the mustache. His uniform perhaps was the only uniform within the inquisitors to be more neatly pressed than Endrics, every angle, every seem, every badge, was placed to perfection.

"Follow me," Madrian ordered, turning on his heel and striding down the corridor. Endric followed, his footsteps heavy and sluggish.

The walk to Archmage Talimagne's office was long, being on the other side of tier three of the Tower Citadel, perhaps a twenty minute, of navigating corridors, markets, and other residential areas. Madrian tried to make small talk, his voice tinged with forced cheerfulness.

"How is Northern Khamet? Any updates or notable events?"

"Fine," Endric replied curtly.

"Archmage Talimane and I heard there was a fight with a cultist, no?"

"Aye."

Primemage Madrian next words held tense frustration. “Tell me Mage Aragaust, how is it that you slew three Nethermancers by yourself. 

“Luck.”

Madrian’s attempts to engage him fell flat, each question met with a monosyllabic response. Endric's disdain for Madrian simmered beneath the surface. He couldn’t forget that this man had been one of the mages responsible for the death of his cousins during the Lorinauthi Rebellion.

Madrian sighed, giving up on the pretense of friendliness. They continued in silence, the only sounds their footsteps echoing through the stone corridors. The flickering torches cast long shadows, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

Finally, they reached Talimane's office. Madrian rapped sharply on the door, and a voice from within bid them enter. The room was dimly lit, with shelves of ancient tomes lining the walls and a large wooden desk at its center. Archmage Talimagne sat behind it, his piercing eyes studying Endric as he stepped inside.

"Ah, Mage Aragaust," Talimane said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"

Endric nodded, keeping his gaze steady. "Yes, Archmage."

"Good. We have much to discuss," Talimane continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Primemage Madrian, please be seated."

Madrian took a seat on the other side of the office, his face an impassive mask. Talimane motioned for Endric to sit as well, and then turned his attention to a stack of papers on his desk. For what seemed like an eternity, Talimane worked silently, filling out reports and shuffling documents. The minutes dragged on, each second a pointed reminder of Endric's tardiness. Endric sat rigidly, the pounding in his head intensifying. The room was cluttered, papers strewn everywhere except the floor. This chaos only added to his discomfort.

After what felt like fifteen minutes, Talimane finally set down his pen and looked up. "Let's get to the matter at hand," he said, his eyes locking onto Endric's. "We're here to discuss your new assignment."

Endric straightened in his chair, listening intently.

"You are being given command of your own Arcane Circle, the 58th Circle, and promoted to Primemage," Talimane announced. "This is the 8th circle of the 5th ring of the Inquisitors. Quite an achievement for someone your age. I don't recall if anyone has ever been promoted to Primemage at 24."

Endric’s heart pounded, a mix of pride and trepidation. He said nothing, waiting for Talimane to continue.

"Drop the pretense, Endric," Talimane said, leaning forward. "I know all about the events in Northern Khamet. You took out an entire Karthist Cabal single-handedly. That’s incredibly impressive."

Endric looked down, his expression unreadable. "I did what was necessary," he said quietly, “And I failed to save the sacrificial victims.”

"Indeed," Talimane agreed somberly. "This is true, but the mission wasn’t to rescue them, and whilst that would have been a good, you still can take heart that you saved future victims by wiping out the cabal, The Inquisitors recognize this achievement. Singlehandely, infiltrated a cabal’s inner workings, and from the inside slew them all. All without support from the 13nth Circle.When I assigned you to auxiliary duty with another ring operating in Northern Khamet, I knew you could handle it. You exceeded my expectations."

Endric nodded, accepting the praise without comment.

"Now, let's discuss your Circle," Talimane said, pulling out a list of names. "You will be assigned the following mages: Cydia Oclain the Elementalist, Galient the Elementalist,  and Daud the Rune Smith. The following Paramage: Yvionne who will be the circles Rune Scribe, and lastly I will put a Demimage under your tutelage,  Leanora Savaria, she is training to be a Luminarian–”

“Leanora Savaria, as in the Savant with Aether, and deepest Arcane Capacity?” Endric said, stunned Talimane would put such potential in a new Primemage’s hands.

“Aye, that Leanora Savaria. She is mostly trained already, and will only be a demimage I reckon for five more months. Each brings a unique set of skills that will complement your leadership."

Endric listened carefully, committing the names to memory. "May I make a request, Archmage?"

"Go ahead."

"I would like Paramage Tabi, son of Tabi, to be assigned to my Circle as well," Endric said. "He knows how to work with me, and his skills would be valuable. And we need a Paramage Harvester in our ranks."

Talimane considered this for a moment before nodding. "That’s reasonable. Tabi will be assigned to your Circle."

"Thank you, Archmage," Endric said, relief evident in his voice.

Talimane stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Remember, Endric, this promotion is not just a reward. It’s a responsibility. The 58th Circle will look to you for guidance and leadership. Do not let them down." Talimane then began writing again, and looking up he asked. “What do you wish your motto and symbol to be?” 

Endric thought for a moment… a few moments passed and Endric said, “Ordi Lumin, Justice Illuminates.”

Talimane cocked an eyebrow, “You mean Ordieae Lumini, Ordi Lumin means Justice Light, who taught your Ancient Ceryn, oh it's not important, essentially a dead language at this point. And what of the Symbol.”

Endric’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he wanted to say If your king didn't kill my parents, perhaps I would know Ancient Ceryn as well as you. “Uh, I suppose a torch casting out the darkness.”

“Very trite. Very well. Primemage Madrian, please have this taken care of.”

With a curt nod Primemage Madrian said, “At once Archmage, “Mage… Primemage Aragaust, your papers, banner, and other essentials will be ready tomorrow after Zenith. Report to the Inquisitor main office.” And with that Madrian was out of the office.

As the door closed behind Madrian, Talimane turned his attention back to Endric. "Now, let's discuss your first assignment as Primemage," he said, his tone more serious. "You will embark on this mission in two days' time. The city of Braemor in Lorinauth has reported strange activities. We need you and your Circle to investigate."

Endric's initial hesitation was clear. He was exhausted from his previous mission, and the thought of diving into another so soon was daunting. But as Talimane continued, Endric's interest piqued.

"There are reports of peculiar gatherings in a place called the Cat's Claw, on the poorer side of town," Talimane explained. "Rich nobles have been seen there at night, mingling with strange figures. We suspect there might be a Karthist presence or something equally sinister. We hope it's just a coincidence, but we can't take any chances."

Endric leaned forward slightly, the fog of fatigue lifting as he absorbed the details. "Who will be there to assist us?"

"Yvionne is already in the city, establishing a network," Talimane replied. "Additionally, you will have the support of a Shadow-bane and a wingless Draconite, both on standby at the safehouse. A battlemage on leave from the campaign, along with six Runeblades, is also ready to act if needed. This mission requires discretion and thorough investigation."

Endric nodded, the weight of the task settling on him. "Understood, Archmage."

Talimane's expression softened slightly. "One more thing, Endric. Leanora Savaria is to be protected at all costs. No harm must come to her. She is a valuable asset, and her safety is paramount."

"I understand," Endric said, his voice firm.

Talimane stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Remember, Endric, this promotion is not just a reward. It’s a responsibility. The 58th Circle will look to you for guidance and leadership. Do not let them down."

Endric rose to his feet, meeting Talimane’s gaze. "I won't, Archmage."

"Good. You are dismissed," Talimane said, his tone firm but not unkind. Handing Endric the stack of papers to review.

With a final nod, Endric left the office, a weight settling on his shoulders. The long corridors of the Tower Citadel seemed endless, but Endric's mind was already at work, planning and preparing for what was to come. He for the first time in a while praised the Divine Breath in his heart.

Endric couldn’t help but shake a really dark thought, intrusive, as it were. He hoped somewhere deep down this was the worst case scenario. The glory would finally prove him the better Arcanist wouldn’t, it? Wouldn’t it? Maybe? Perhaps… yes. It would. The walk to Endrics quarters was only fifteen minutes. Not a sound could be heard throughout the trek, except for Endrics own inner monologue, which rang akin to the most intrusive bell, that interrupted a truly restful sleep. 

When Endric arrived to his door, he had already convinced himself that maybe this could warrant an early promotion to Archmage. Yes then Mateó Anno’Talorian would know who the real champion was. Finally the debate would end. Endrick the victor. Then, a sort of sobriety hit him… what if there were victims? Endrick countered, that he would save them, so they would benefit from his glory. I couldn’t save them before though. Then another thought hit him, and he stopped just outside his quarters, and considered is this really what he has become? Did he really want glory more than the wellbeing of Karths victims? Shame tugged at his heart. He knew the answer… but he didn’t dare say it, nor even think it… but in his heart he knew. 

“Nether it all.” He said under his breath. Endric pushed open the door to his quarters, the small room barely larger than a prison  cell. The walls were bare stone, and a narrow bed with a thin mattress stood against one wall. A single wooden chair and a simple writing desk, cluttered with scrolls and ink pots, occupied the remaining space. The room's austerity was softened by the presence of a woman, and Endrics tensions eased, as he realized it was only Philoma, oh halls of the Celestial above, thank the Almighty its Philoma. She stood by the bed, her dark eyes lighting up with a mix of worry and relief as he entered. Her simple dress and loose hair contrasted sharply with the rigid surroundings, bringing a quiet warmth and softness to the otherwise bare quarters. 

She pressed her index finger to her lips, and Endric softly closed the door, he then turned to her and said, “when did you get here?”

Philomas dark curls crowned her head elegantly, and Endric thought despite her lowborn heritage she looked so much like a lady, no, a princess. “While you were away of course.”

“Did anyone notice you?”

“No, of course not. The halls are empty, Mage Aragaust.” Her smile was wicked, intoxicating, and pure all at once.

“Primemage Aragaust,” Endric corrected gently, and Philoma’s smile intensified,“Phili,” Endric said softly walking over to her, then he lost all bearing and leapt towards her, and they embraced with a kiss. “You know you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I know, but I missed you, and when you weren’t here, after I heard wind that you returned from Lorenna I just became so worried, so I decided to stay.”

“I’m glad you did.” Endrick said with finality. “That way I could at least give you an explanation to my soon absence of the Tower.”

Philomas eyes widened, and she cupped his face with her hands. “Absence?” she asked quizzically, “But you just returned?”

“Aye, I was assigned an important mission. I’ll be embarking in two days to Braemor.” Endric said and motioned to kiss her brow, but she pulled back.

“But you just returned!”

“Shh, I know…” Endric said, caressing the back of her head.

A moment passed, and Philoma held his embrace. Then she looked up to Endric, “Are you nervous to return to Lorinauth?” 

“Slightly…”

She pursed her lips, and rather matter of factly asked “How long must I be without you? Why does fate curse me so?”

Endrics heart melted at that. And his eyes weld up slightly. “Any day without you in my eyes is a day too long. Perhaps a week, maybe two, hopefully not longer. It's important however.” truthfully Endric didn't know. He hoped this lie would ease her for now.

Philoma smiled, seemingly pleased, “Well it's about time they promoted you.  You deserve it.”

Endric grimaced. “Hopefully I am the right man for the job.”

“Endric, there is no doubt in my mind that you are right for the job.”

Endric nodded at that, then considered for a moment. He turned to her in a hushed tone, “You know you shouldn’t be here… but Almighty how I’m glad you are.” He brushed her dark curls from her face, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “Propriety demands we be hidden, yet I want to tell the world I love you.” Another lie, Nether you Endric, He silently cursed himself, praying it wasn’t a lie. 

“I will wait for you when you are ready, my love.” Philoma said, she then pulled away, and sat on his bed, patting next to her, and Endric sat. she put her arms around him, and Endric then felt all the worries of the world dissipate. “Oh how lucky I am to look you in the eyes and say I love you.”

Endrick smile, “How lucky my ears are to hear it.”

“Are they?” she asked, earnestly.

He nodded.

“I hope so.” Philoma said, and kissed Endrics cheek. Why did the Almighty make the lips of a woman so soft, he wondered. She then pulled back, “Endric, might I ask you something?”

“Of course, Phili”

“How long will you have me wait? The more time goes by the more I fear it's because of my status… I know I have no dowry, and I am  but a Paramage rune scribe, but I can give you what no other woman can.”

Endric’s lips almost instinctively frowned, but he forced a warm smile. “Philoma, hush, no technically we are of the same status. Not much longer. Once I am an Archmage things will be different.”

“You said that about becoming a primemage. I know you are the last of your family, but I could be a good wife to you, and would honor you, at all times. Besides I’m a Paramage afterall, I’ve been trained to be a good assistant. We could slowly rebuild house Aragaust together, you and I.”

“No one said you wouldn’t Phili… it's just… Well, I suppose the problem lies in me. I just need… Patience right now. I realize I was foolish to promise it once I became a Primemage. There is too much active responsibility.”

Philoma let out a defeated breath, then after a moment said, “I can give that to you.”

Endric leaned back on the bed and let out a deep sigh. “You know… if I’m to be honest, I think… Hm… honestly I don’t know what I think.” He said honestly, or was it honest? Was he just trying to smooth things over? Endric continued albeit unsure, “Ever since I was young, I was called a traitor… I never did anything though. I just bore the name Aragaust. My parents were traitors though, as much as I hate to admit it. Because of them everyone in my family is gone… except me. I think I just… I don’t know… a part of me is scared to give you the name of a traitor.”

“Endric, you are the most loyal man I know.”

Endric considered this for a second. Was he? “You mustn’t know many good men.”

“I know you, and one is enough.”

“You have such a way with words Philoma.”

“Lady Aragaust, has a ring to it, you know. And when your service contract ends, I’d be more than happy to provide you with children… many children. As much as you need to continue the house.”

“I fear the Talorians may not let me do that.”

“Oh Endric, I love you, but you can be so Paranoid sometimes, its like you see a knife behind every curtain.”

“Maybe there is one, and I only need to be right once in order to be proven not crazy.”

Philoma leaned back, resting her head on his chest, “I assure you, The Talorians have bigger problems to deal with than Endric Aragaust.”

“I assure you they don’t.” Endric said, finding his fist clenched. The Talorians starting with Mateó would eventually see justice, be It by the hand of the Almighty, or Endrics own.

“Then we can face them together,” Philoma said with the most adorable innocence, “But what about Archmage Talimagne Anno’Talorian? Hadn’t he always treated you well enough?”

Endric thought for a brief moment. “He’s sort of the black sheep of the family if I’m to be honest. Despite being of royalty, he hardly acts it. More involved with the inquisitors than the affairs of his own family.”

“Kind of like you, huh?” she said.

Endric wanted to say something… anything, but the words were lost in his throat. Instead, he pulled her close and became lost with her marvel, determined to forget all his worries. knowing he should have read and studied the orders, but also didn’t care that he didn’t.