We made our way purposefully down St. Michael’s Way. Biff caught up to us with a double guard contingent by the time we reached Watch Keep. Apparently, they had been waiting on-call to come to us on a moment’s notice. They had all jogged rapidly to catch up with us, but none were out of breath.

  We encountered no difficulties, but we did draw looks. We exited through the West Gates and turned south. I received a salute as I passed. I returned the salute, but I still felt awkward doing it. Thankfully, the Marine Commander had once remarked that my salute back was a sign of my respect for the other soldiers as much as it was an acknowledgement of my rank and the honor they bestow upon it. The salute was about respect and camaraderie. That explanation made it much easier since offering respect to others was more natural for me than expecting to receive it. I also learned that none of the other soldiers with me saluted because it was my duty as the senior member to show a sign of respect on behalf of all those who were with me.

  Partway there, I wished we had taken mounts from the West Gate. It was a bit of a hike to the tower, just over a mile. But finding horses for such a large group, under the circumstances, would have been problematic.

  So we walked.

  It took us maybe ten minutes to get there from the gates. If we had hurried, we could have done it in closer to seven or eight minutes, but if our arrival ended in a slugfest, we did not want to already be fatigued. Regardless, Biff kept a steady and rapid pace for us all.

  I know I was getting winded, but Isaac, a far older mage, wasn’t even breathing hard.

  It wasn’t fair.

  When we arrived, we saw that there were no guards at the tower and all appeared quiet.

  Isaac insisted that he would lead the way, reasoning that he could withstand magical or physical attacks better than any of us could. Biff was not happy about that. He felt as responsible for the Majordomo’s safety as he did for my own. I was Biff’s best friend, but Isaac was perhaps the most powerful mage in the city, with the archmage absent. His presence was crucial for our success against the horde, especially with the Bishop now lost to us.

  I thought momentarily about the Bishop’s visit with me and both his and Bella’s words that I was not alone. I still did not know what it meant, but for the first time, it gave me comfort.

  Despite precautions such as inspecting the door, listening at the door, and checking the door for traps, which Isaac did with a spell, there was no threat. He opened the unlocked tower door, and we entered. Isaac led us, Biff was second, and I followed close behind, followed by the journeymen. All the Patron’s guards with the exception of the Inquisitors that accompanied us, fanned out around the tower, keeping a line of sight with their closest neighbor and a watchful eye out for anything unusual.

  After a great deal of buildup and tension, we only discovered half a dozen aimless undead in the tower. They were not guided by a necromancer and came after us hungrily, but without order and one at a time. Isaac dispatched each without any assistance other than a Holy Light, which I put up at the sign of the first undead.

  We searched the tower and discovered, in the lower levels, old storage rooms that had been converted into what looked to me like prison cells. A group of seven apprentices was in one cell, huddled in the back corner as far from the door as they could get. In another cell, several rooms away, we discovered master alchemist Alexander.

  Adriana tended to the apprentices with Steven and Simon while Isaac, Biff, Chompers, and I entered the store room with Alexander. The inquisitors kept watch in the hallways.

  Both rooms were average-sized, perhaps twenty feet by twenty feet. Neither contained any crates or barrels, however. Steven produced food and drink for the apprentices, but they were searched carefully one at a time to ensure no obvious threats.

  Master Alexander stood when Isaac and I entered and watched us all carefully as the rest followed us in.

  He bowed stiffly, but formally, to Isaac. “I thank you for my rescue, Majordomo. I presume you have some questions for me.”

  “Indeed. Let’s start with you sharing what happened both prior to and after the Patron’s visit. More questions will follow. I encourage you to be as forthcoming as possible.” And he waved his hand, and the room was filled with a pale green light.

  Isaac nodded. “I was summoned to the guild hall for a preliminary meeting before the Patron’s scheduled visit. At the time, I thought little about it. I knew that several of my colleagues were upset with the Patron for sharing potion-making with non-mages, even if the recipes were all classified as minor and had been revealed publicly centuries ago. His ability to do so and the quantity that he was producing were alarming to guild leadership.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Isaac asked, “But not to you, specifically?”

  “That he could make the potions was not especially troubling to me. That he was producing them in large quantities, I admit to mixed feelings on the matter.” He replied.

  “Explain,” Isaac demanded.

  “The city is being attacked by a horde of goblins, and I knew that his volume of production would significantly assist in the city’s defense. And yet, as a master alchemist, secrecy is second nature, and revealing secrets, even partial or minor secrets, tugged at both my ego and our guild’s traditions. That he knew how to make them was one thing; sharing it with others was another. It also cut into a little of my business and was a kind of competition. I’m sure you understand what I mean, Majordomo.”

  Isaac did not acknowledge the explanation. “Move on. What happened at the meeting before the Patron arrived?” Isaac asked.

  “There was a lot of anger to begin with and some posturing. But that settled down, and discussions wavered between fulfilling our commitments for potion making and taking a hard line on guild protocols and tradition. As you have no doubt discovered, the guild was quite small with only seven members of master rank. We have been forced to use journeymen in traditional roles previously held by masters.”

  “Why was the guild so small?” Isaac asked.

  “Had you asked me yesterday, I would have replied it was most likely due to a lack of interest among younger apprentices, the risks inherent in the profession, or a cyclical phase.”

  “But I did not ask you yesterday. I am asking now. What is your explanation now?” He pressed.

  “My best guess is a plot to eliminate competition by the necromancers. What appeared as natural deaths or accidents, in individual circumstances, had to have been part of either a planned thinning of the masters or opportune eliminations over time. Ten years ago, we were triple our current size and thirty years ago nearly four times as many.”

  “You mentioned necromancers. Plural. Who did you mean?” Isaac asked.

  “Masters Jotter and Harmony. Jotter was the ringleader, and I presume that Cherit Harmony was his apprentice or at least colleague if such things occurred among necromancers. Common knowledge seemed to have necromancers working alone, but since Twilight, that appears unlikely. Harmony was an accomplished master alchemist and a mage with modest magical powers. I would not guess that he would willingly have served Jotter as an apprentice, but I do not know this for certain.”

  “So the group decided on a trial. What was your opinion on the matter?” Isaac asked directly.

  Alexander looked over at me. “I tried to warn the Patron off before he entered the chambers, but he did not heed my advice.”

  “That was not an answer to my question,” Isaac said firmly. “I need not explain the circumstances you find yourself.”

  “No. I am aware.” Alexander said. “I initially voiced opposition and encouraged that we fulfill our commitment. But by the time a vote was taken, and it was made very clear that it was to be unanimous, I voted along with all others to sanction the Patron. We did not discuss what those sanctions might be in anything other than very general ways. The focus was on a unanimous stand as a guild.”

  He turned to face me. “I am sorry, Gwydion. I did not know that this would turn out as it did.”

  Isaac snapped, “You will answer my questions and restrict your responses to me and only me. Am I clear?”

  His voice was harder than I had ever heard him, and a slow anger burned within him. Alexander sensed it as well and nodded, returning his gaze to his own scuffed and muddied boots.

  “Then you voted to sanction the Patron, even knowing that he was under the protection and authority of The Tower and the Duke.”

  “Yes, even so, Majordomo.” He replied.

  Isaac watched him closely for a few more moments and then softened slightly. “We can skip the trial itself, farcical as it was; the Duke and I witnessed it in its entirety. Take it from the Patron’s departure.”

  He looked up and made eye contact with Isaac. “The room went mad. The guildmaster verbally chastised Masters Jotter and Harmony for striking out at the Patron. He rushed after the Patron, yelling for him to come back and discuss matters. When he returned even angrier, he accused the two masters of destroying the guild and threatened them. He demanded they write a letter of apology to the Duke, The Tower, and the Patron for attacking him. He had not changed his opinion of the Patron's work, just that it had blown out of control, and now the entire guild stood in contempt of Mage Council law and tradition.

  “It was at his utterance of the word contempt that Jotter stood and revealed himself for what he was. Shadows flew from a ceramic jar he had in a magical pocket, and attacks on the guildmaster and the other masters erupted in chaos.

  “I saw the guildmaster slain, but as the one closest to the exit, I made it into the hallway and avoided most of the area of effect acid attacks. The apprentices were cloaked and in the upper rows. They were safe from the attacks and remained subdued. Several journeymen tried to intervene, and a smoky darkness descended on all of us, even upon me and the journeyman Sandor in the hallway making our way out.”

  He shrugged after his story. “The necromancers had time over many years to prepare the tower as a defensive hold, and so we were all surprised and succumbed to the slumber effects that fell upon us. I awoke in here and other than a short visit from Master Harmony with an offer to join their ranks or perish, I have not interacted with anyone else.”

  Isaac leaned forward. “And what was your response to his offer?” He asked.

  Isaac sighed. “I said I would, of course. I was buying time. Regardless of what I believed about their goals and powers, I did not want to be murdered in this cell. I don’t think Harmony believed my sincerity, however, since he did not release me, and it has been some time since I have seen or heard from him.”

  Isaac had a disgusted look on his face. “Even admitting what you just did could get you executed. You realize that, do you not?”

  “Of course I do.” Master Alexander remarked, showing some anger for the first time. “But delayed death is preferable to instant death. And by telling you what happened, I am hoping for leniency. My circumstances are hardly typical.”

  “You are a prisoner and have shown some degree of remorse and did attempt to protect the Patron. And so you are not being summarily judged. But you will be questioned by your peers and their judgment, and the judgment of the Duke will be final.” Isaac stated.

  “I only ask for fairness and not to be a goat for all the horror wrought by others.” He asked.

  “You will be placed on trial. Its form and function others will determine.”

  Isaac turned to me and asked, “Any questions for him?”