Royal Crown Commision: A Piece of The Minds

[Jim Roberts]

[Jan 30 PM – Castle Sibley]

While a certain Norse knight was having a discussion with a certain
silver haired bard and a pair of Divine Steeds, off in a different part
of Castle Sibley, Finfin and Mithralia were just concluding a “wizards”
meeting with the region’s preeminent mage. Lycineus O’Keith had just
shaken hands with Mithi, and now was exchanging a handshake with Finfin.
The good looking man positively towered over the elf, his features and
ruddy expression hinting at his celtic heritage while his green eyes
twinkled in amusement.

“I am very glad I predicted that the two of you would be at whatever
this shindig Ben has pulled together,” he stated as he shook Finfin’s
hand. “And it has been a pleasure doing business with *both* of you
again. I will await word from you when you can take me to a Yelti city
to memorize some Teleport coordinates, and you can be certain I will
make it worth your while.”

“It is indeed good to do business with you,” Finfin agreed. “Until then.”

When they were alone again, Finfin quietly asked Mithi, “I hope I have
not stepped in it, and created a competitor to our Teleport runs for
Madame Blackswallow.” In his hands was a notice Lycineus had handed to
them offering income for Teleport capable mages, authored by the leader
of the Majali Kurva away at Fort Resolute.

“Eh, I figure there’s plenny of room fer a LOT of business,” Mithi
replied practically. “So long as we all keep a gennelman’s agreement not
to go out of our way to poach someone else’s turf, they’ll be plenny ta
go ‘round. Just fink. Even if Lycineus starts importing the same coffee,
or today’s project starts bringing in west coast java by the cartload.
There’s still plenny of Yelti ‘ere that’d pay top coin ta get their
mornin’ fix of Dunki’s, just like back ‘ome.”

Finfin nodded somewhat dubiously. “Ex-pats are that dedicated to that
specific brew?”

Mithi chuckled grimly. “Fin, love, you *saw* them lines back at
Spindrift? Yeltanar *runs* on Dunki’s, just like the adverts say. The
whole Wagon Train ‘as gone cold turkey on the stuff. Now, wave a hint of
Dunki’s best before ‘em, and they’ll pay top gold. And fink. That’s just
*coffee*. There’ll be all manner of high value stuff people stuck for
years without would be willin’ ta buy. Not ta mention the Madame’s
suggestions of mail,” she concluded, nodding towards the flyer Lycineus
had handed them.

Finfin nodded. “Well, melethril, I look forward to working with you, on
today’s project as well as our own sidelines, making some extra cash in
between all of our other engagements.”

The apprentice mage gave him a hug. “Ya know ‘ow ta say the sweetest
fings to a former ‘ard up shopgirl, Fin me love.”

After several tender moments, they drew apart, and Finfin gently
chuckled. “You know,” he mused, “it is rather a strange feeling, doing
business with the wizard Lycineus like this.”

“Oh?” Mithi asked, “‘Ow so?”

With a fond smile, Finfin’s answer called his mind back several years.
“When I was but a beginning mage myself just arrived in the beginnings
of the Abbot’s settlements, the Wizard Lycineus was more of a myth than
a person to me. A mage of awesome power who had recently mastered the
fabled Sixth Standard List of Arcane spells, who had allegedly locked
himself up in a tower in the ruins of Cimarron nearby. And one who would
rain magecraft of all manner of unspeakable sorts upon any who disturbed
him.”

“That don’t seem like the man we’ve been doin’ business wif,” Mithi
pointed out.

“No indeed,” Finfin agreed with another chuckle. “I daresay it was a
legend he was putting about just so young adventurers just off the boat,
so to speak, would not disturb him. But for years afterwards, I was
always concerned that the fabled Sixth List spells might have a damaging
effect on a wizard’s mind. First with Lycineus locking himself up, and
then when the Sorceress Rae was on the verge of making that magical
breakthru, her own mental meltdown.”

“Maybe,” Mithi replied doubtfully. “But ya remember that phrase about
correlation and causation?”

“Indeed,” Finfin agreed. “But it did leave me concerned for years that I
might face my own meltdown or decide to lock myself up in a tower if I
ever managed magics of the Sixth Degree.” He looked curiously at his
apprentice and asked plaintively, “Now that I have, you *would* tell me
if I started to become unhinged?”

Mithi laughed. “You’ll be among the first ta know,” she promised.

“Good,” the elf replied sincerely, and proceeded to change the subject.
“This is when I had thought that we would start ferrying our friends to
first Symbala and then Fort Resolute before continuing on to meet Josie
at the Briarpatch,” he mused. “But the Abbot’s Wind Walk has allowed our
pals to not need our Teleportation. Josie had the furthest to travel,
and even she should have arrived some hours ago.”

“Yup,” Mithi agreed. “And that were right kind of the Abbot. It’s let a
lotta me galpals ‘ave a bunch of extra time wif their gennlemen friends.”

“Indeed,” Finfin echoed his partner’s agreement. “And it presents some
options I had not previously expected.”

“Oh?” Mithi queried.

Finfin nodded. “We no longer *have* to make a stopover at Fort Resolute
tonight, as our passengers are already there. Would you prefer that we
stopped over at Trollkill instead before continuing on to the Briarpatch
for the night? It would give you a chance to see your family again.”

“Aw, Fin,” Mithi replied while giving him another hug, “That’s right
sweet of you ta fink of me family like that.”

“So we should adjust our plans for Trollkill?”

However, Mithi shook her head. “If there’s one fing me family
unnerstands, it’s *business*,” she answered firmly. “An’ we’ve got
business ourselves in Fort Resolute. First that gear you’ve commissioned
from Anni, and then another load of coffee ta sell ta Fawnfire so we can
pay fer that lovely night comin’ up in Spindrift.”

“And you would rather we did that tonight rather than in the morning
when we retrieve Lomi and Val?”

“Absolutely,” Mithi replied somewhat firmly. “Tonight, we’re on our OWN
time, so we should take care of our own business first. Tomorrow, we’ve
gotta get them supplies waitin’ fer us out ta our pals out on the
Plains, *and* Teleport back ta Sibley in time fer tomorrow’s meetin’.
The more we can take care of ahead of time at Fort Resolute tonight, the
greater them odds are that we can get everyfing done tomorrow, and still
be on time.”

“I bow to your wisdom,” Finfin replied, putting words into motion.
Between some couples, those words might well have contained some biting
sarcasm, but the elf genuinely meant it. Mithi was not just his
apprentice and lover, but also his business manager. She was quite
*good* at being practical.

With a gentle smile, Mithi added, “And Oi bet you’ll enjoy ‘aving just a
bit of extra time tomorrow morning, if fings go the way Oi *fink* they
will.” She laughed, and added, “Oi knows *Oi* sure will.”

“I as well,” the elf avowed.

Moments later, the two wizards were stepping out of the elf’s signature
black and white ringed Dimensional tunnel, emerging at the designated
“telepad” just outside the manor house at Fort Resolute. Unlike the
telepads at major cities or the Keeryte Sisterhood, this particular
location had nothing more imposing than the traditional capital T in a
circle neatly marked out in flat stones set neatly level with the
ground, along with signs in many languages advising everyone to keep the
area clear.

Soon afterwards, they were in the simple manor house that was really not
more than a stout rectangular stone building. Mithi led the way, and a
moment later they were walking along the simple central corridor, coming
to a stop outside a stout closed wooden door. Adorning the door was a
rather nicely done portrait, done in coloured charcoals. The central
subject was a dryad, set in a scene of pastoral beauty. The dryad was
wearing exactly what dryads usually wore, and had her body partly turned
away from the viewpoint of the viewer. She was looking back towards the
unseen observer, a small smile on her lips.

The two wizards stared at the portrait for some considerable time.
Finally, Finfin said reverently, “I may not know much about Art, but I
do know what I like. And this is *very* nice.”

Mithi chuckled. “And the artwork’s not bad, either!” She grinned back at
her mentor, and added, “It’s fine ta notice; she really IS worth a
second and third look.”

Finfin nodded. “That she is.” He contemplated the portrait for another
few moments, and observed, “That really IS a fine likeness for a dryad.”

The apprentice mage grinned at her mentor. “You’ve met one?”

“Rather intimately,” Finfin acknowledged.

“Ya know Oi’ll want stories,” Mithi warned him, her eyes dancing in delight.

“That I can do,” Finfin agreed. “Or rather than telling tales, I would
be most happy to *demonstrate*.”

“Now *that* would be worth *more’n* a thousand words,” Mithi replied
happily. She turned her attention back to the portrait and considered.
“Prolly done by ‘Aunt Throri’. Not me own real Aunt, but Lomi’s.” Mithi
cocked her head as she and her mentor continued to study the artwork.
“Racier than I wouldha thought Annie would’ve put up in a Church Knight
building. But in an artistic setting like this, Oi fink ya can get away
wif a lot.”

Finfin nodded, his gaze never leaving the subject of the artwork before
them. Mithi’s eyes narrowed as a new thought occurred to her. She
briefly chanted one of the simplest of Arcane spells, her fingers
leaving behind just the faintest hint of blue as she moved them through
a quick pattern.

“Yup,” she said after a moment’s observation. “Magic.” A few seconds
after that, she added, “Faint, though.” After a few more seconds, she
concluded, “Illusion school.”

His gaze still locked onto the portrait’s subject, Finfin mused,
“Fascinating.”

Mithi giggled. “Oi fink Oi’ll haveta warn Annie that her magic sign is
bein’ a bit TOO effective at capturing the attention of menfolk, and
they’re missing wot they’re *supposed* ta see.”

“Mmm?” the elf asked. Only then did he pull his attention away from the
center of the portrait to observe a neatly penned sign below. “Ah,” he
added a bit sheepishly. “I see. We are to speak the indicated command
phrase to learn when the Wizard Anadrieniel is available.”

Mithi nodded, and proceeded with the listed instruction. “When will the
Wizard Anadrieniel be available?” she asked.

The dryad on the portrait’s smile grew as she beckoned the imaginary
viewer to follow her, while a dulcet voice stated, "The Wizard
Anadrieniel is in, please knock, and wait until she says it is safe to
enter."

The two wizards exchanged bemused looks as a different voice called out
from beyond the door. “No boom today,” came the cheery call from within.
“Abandon all hope ye who enter here, and all that, c’mon in.”

Showing that he *had* learned to follow advice, particularly from a
woman, Finfin knocked, even though they were clearly expected, and
following Mithi into the office beyond. Inside was a double sized office
that was part workroom, and part laboratory. And quite clearly the lair
of Fort Resolute’s “court wizard”.

“Mithi!” the young wizard within exclaimed, pushing a pile of books
carefully away from the edge of her work table before hopping around her
desk and running towards one of her visitors.

“Anni!” the apprentice returned cheerfully, and the two ladies met in a hug.

“Oh! And the dashing Captain Finfin, and I am such a fright,” Andrieniel
stammered a little flustered. She unconsciously raised one hand to her
hair, though in truth she did not look at all disheveled, just rather
charmingly excited to see her friend Mithi and her beau.

“You are looking most elegant this evening, ma’am,” Finfin gently
contradicted the wizard.

“Oh, why thank you,” the resident wizard smiled, a touch of color
touching her cheeks at the compliment. “I was engrossed in preparations
for a big order that came in this morning, but luckily I have my
faithful entry dryad to bring me back to reality and notice people at
the door.”

“It *is* a very nice construct,” Finfin began.

“‘E means she’s well built!” Mithi clarified.

The elf chuckled. “Very much so. Both artistic and well crafted.”

“Thank Throrfiwen,” Anadriniel suggested modestly. “She really outdid
herself, and tells me that is a quite accurate rendition of a perfectly
lovely dryad named Chrysesis who modelled for her long ago. The voice
was a lot harder, but we played with my audible glamers a good long
while and ‘Aunt’ Thori said that’s at least close.”

“While alas I do not know this particular dryad,” Finfin admitted, “I
can absolutely confirm that it is a truly excellent likeness of a
different dryad I knew. Perhaps with a different hair colour, but the
other details are spot on.”

“Oh, the hair color changes with the seasons, you know,” the sage
explained happily. “I have, alas, never met any, but both Throrfiwen and
Pilinde told me all about them. Then, of course, I had to read up on
them a lot to get everything just right in the imagery. I am rather
proud of my animated portrait guarding the door, and as you can imagine
I get a lot more visitors now.”

“The arcane construction is certainly something for which you should be
proud,” Finfin observed.

Mithi nodded her firm agreement. “Wot is it? A Major Image, programmed
into your hand crafted Wonderous Item ta respond to a keyword that can
give a whole set of responses?”

“Oh yes, and it can do more,” Anadrieniel explained happily. “That was
just the default ‘the wizard is in’ animation. There’s 9 more, depending
on how the little clock hands in the frame I had the carpenters make are
set. Here, let me show her off just a bit.”

They stepped to the doorway again, and Fort Resolute’s resident wizard
pointed out the neat little clock face worked into the bottom center of
the frame. She set the hands, and showed them that depending on the
setting, the dryad would deliver different messages explaining when the
wizard would return. If she had to set a time other than the 8
pre-programmed possibilities, the animated dryad in the portrait would
cheerily point out the clock and tell the visitor that was the time
Anadrieniel expected to be back.

“I call her Chronotellia,” their hostess chuckled. “Did not seem right
to put the ‘real’ dryad to work this way, so I made up a funny name.”