Dread Mage

Outside:

Arby handed Sonder a green bottle from which she had just taken a sip from, and said, “Here, Dea.”

They decided to call her Dea.

Sonder took it and smell what was in it.

It was wine.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to drink this,” she said.

“Oh, what’s the matter? We’re all mature enough to have a few sips, aren’t we?” Arby said.

Though the bottle was taken from her hands before she could drink from it. Chron, given the name because of his master The Arcane Chronicler, took a few good gulps before he put it away from his mouth. Sonder initially thought Chron was small because he was young, but it later became apparent that he had gnomish ancestry.

As Sonder watched Chron take a few more gulps from the bottle, she couldn't help but feel curious but also concern. She had always been a cautious person, but the adventurous spirit of her newfound friends was contagious. With a hesitant smile, she took the bottle back from Chron and took a small sip, allowing the taste of the wine to spread through her mouth.

To her surprise, the wine was exquisite. It had a rich flavour that mingled with the warmth spreading through her body. Sonder found herself relaxing somewhat.

Though a question of worry still lingered in her mind, and she verbalized it to her new friends.

“Do you guys know who the apprentice to the Ahsepian mage is? The one who challenged the Dread Mage to duel?”

“You mean the one YOU have to duel?” Chron said. “No idea. I don’t know anyone here except you guys.”

“I’ve seen him.” The boy with the ‘temporally displaced’ arm said. They called him Arm, due to his arm. It made sense in the moment, and they didn’t want to think about a name for too long.

“Can you tell me about him?” Sonder asked.

“Looks like a dickhead, Dea. Bigger than all of us, and he was rude to the servants. Seemed like a mix of arrogance, dickheadedness and skill to back it up. Never ends well with those kinds of people.”

“Why does the Dread Mage want you to fight him?” Rivels asked.

“I don’t know,” Sonder said, putting her hands on her face, and sighed. “Sometimes I don’t understand him, but since we’ve been together the things, he did always seem to have a reason. I trust him.”

“Enough to get your ass kicked for him?” Arby asked.

When the wine bottle was handed back to Sonder, she drank until it was empty. She really hoped Vell had a plan, that didn’t involve her getting a public beating.

“Hey, Arm,” Chron said, almost giddy, “You think you can put that arm through me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “I’ve never tried it on a person before. The High-Invoker thinks it dangerous.”

“Wanna try it?”

“Hell yeah.”

There was cheering and yelling from the children, that even could be heard inside the ball room.

---

Inside:

Vell was dancing his fifth dance.

People came up to him and asked to dance with him.

Four women, and then one man, in which he took on the feminine role of the dance. He enjoyed dancing, and had studied the art in the past, though recently he didn’t find the time to practise it very much.

He relished in it. And the people liked to have the claim that they danced with the Dread Mage.

But it would only have been a handful of the hundreds that attended the ball, and Vell didn’t think that he would dance any time soon again.

After it was finished, and a fifth woman came to him and asked to dance, he insisted it be his last.

It was a slow one, one of elegance and grace, instead of the fast paced and more jovial.

He had taken hold of the woman firmly by the hip, as it was an older more traditional dance where the man leads fully. She seemed to enjoy it too.

“You’re not so fearful, Dread Mage.” She spoke.

“I am tired of it. I am quite friendly if one gets to know me.” He responded.

“But you are very picky to whom it comes to bear the title of friend, aren’t you? I hope your wife won't mind.”

Vell narrowed his eyes but didn’t stop the dance. "She won't."

“Stop the pretence, Dread Mage,” she said, her voice cold, “Why are you here? Who is that girl with you? In all the years you have been known you never once had an apprentice. What’s the game?”

“Maybe I changed my ways?” he said shrugging his shoulders.

“As if. Everyone here thinks you’re a monster. Someone that needs to be put down. You know why people here dance with you? Or don’t speak up, except for that fool from Ahsep who has no sense? You’re like a wild animal that could snap at any moment. They want to enjoy the sight before you do.”

Her words were like poison, though Vell had grown accustomed to it.

He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Do you want me to?” That widened her eyes a bit. “What if I took a moment and ripped out your spine? Would anyone stop me? Would you be able to stop me from doing so? I came here to enjoy myself and you insult me so. Have you no tact? You say I am a dangerous animal, yet you poke me.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“You seem to know my past. What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

She stammered, “the mages here- they you would stop you.”

“These clowns? No, they wouldn’t stand a chance if I chose to do something drastic.”

When the music finished, Vell let go of the woman, who had been struggling to get out for quite some time.

“I have shown no ill manners to anyone who show none to me, and I will continue to do so. If you could spread that message to everyone, that would be very helpful.”

The woman went away quickly, and disappeared even faster into the masses, out of his sight.

And he didn’t see her for the rest of his stay at the lodge.