Vol 5, Chapter 16

◆ Village near the Goblin Forest, Captain Kurt's POV. ◆

The goblins appeared earlier than he had expected.

The last rays of the sun vanished beyond the horizon. The pounding of hooves from the horse carrying the messenger with his report faded away, and the dust settled, barely visible in the darkness.

Soldiers were setting up tents, lighting their way with torches. The cook poured salt into boiling water, squinting to measure the right amount in the firelight. A young sergeant flirted with a refugee, boasting about a trophy sword. A peasant boy dragged a charred board to throw into the fire.

Thud! A burst of sparks from the board hitting the fire lit up a soldier changing his footwraps. He frowned in annoyance but tossed the boy a copper coin, telling him to bring more fuel.

Not far away, Bubble was up to nonsense, bending the lead plates from the elder's house and stuffing them into an iron pot glowing red-hot. A small barrel of water stood beside him.

Even more campfires burned around the perimeter of the burned-out village.

In their dancing light, a dozen soldiers were digging a trench across the road. The hard-packed dirt, trodden into stone by feet, yielded poorly, and one of them, attaching a knife to his musket, began using it as a crowbar, earning himself a slap from his commander.

At that moment, a shot rang out from one of the posts.

Its rolling thunder swept across the camp, making it freeze for a heartbeat.

A second shot followed.

A piercing shriek in response proved that it had hit someone.

Snatching a torch from its bracket, Kurt ran toward the sound of the shots, shouting orders.

"Stir the fires! Stir them and stand behind them!"

On the run, he tore down a tarp and hurled it over the farthest fire. For a couple of seconds it went dark as the heavy fabric smothered the burning wood, then thick smoke rose.

The first arrow hissed through the air and struck the ground.

The fire crackled, the cloth ignited, lighting up the area. Filthy green limbs showed in the firelight. Screeching, the goblins fell back to the edge of visibility.

In the dark, their eyes gleamed like an animal's. For the uninitiated, the sight of dozens upon dozens of glowing eyes was terrifying, but now it gave the chance to gauge their numbers.

"I said behind the fires! Behind, not in front of them!" Kurt barked, continuing to count goblins. There were far too many for a routine night raid.

Goblins preferred to attack by day, though they could see better in the dark than humans. One would think this gave them an advantage…

But night vision had its downside. Goblins were far more sensitive to light.

Even a human, after looking into a fire in the dark, would have trouble seeing. Darkness thickened in his eyes, and his adjusted vision failed. Shapes he could distinguish moments ago blended back into the night.

For goblins it was worse. Darkness was their friend, but only until the first torch blinded them for dozens of minutes, leaving them helpless until their sensitive eyes adjusted.

At night, goblins preferred to rob a settlement, steal chickens, butcher livestock, and attack those who went out to relieve themselves without taking a light.

Those living near a goblin lair knew: the best defense was bright light and no panic. Recruits, in their first night battles, instinctively tried to stay away from the light to avoid becoming easy targets for enemy archers. And with arrows whistling nearby, resisting that urge was especially hard.

Some might even run, hoping to hide in the dark — naïve. That only made them easy prey for the green-skinned shorties far better adapted to darkness.

The goblins kept to their nature. Their round eyes narrowed in a squint as they loosed arrows toward the fires, hoping to scare the enemy. The bone arrowheads had holes drilled into them to make the whistle louder. It might have been frightening if not for the answering roar of muskets, which in an instant drowned out the whistling.

Even if the goblins themselves couldn't be seen in the dark, their gleaming eyes made fine targets. One only had to aim a little lower and hope the bullet went true.

Handling powder with a blazing fire right in front of you wasn't exactly safe, however there was no choice.

The green-skins began to waver. Though most bullets missed, those that hit often killed outright.

"Kurt! Where to?" shouted Bubble, running up at the sound of the fight. In his hands was a musket without a fixed bayonet.

The commander pointed toward a spot where a dozen eyes gleamed in the dark. Arrows were coming from there too — archers.

The shot was louder than usual, hurting the ears. The muzzle flash lit the battlefield for a moment, revealing crooked green faces. Uneven buckshot sprayed wildly, seeding the cone ahead with whistling lead.

The archers screamed in pain and scattered, dropping their crude bows.

That was the last straw. A screaming comrade caused more panic than a silent corpse with a fist-sized hole in it.

The goblins retreated, dragging the wounded and dead, not to tend the injured or honor the fallen, but to eat them.

"Cease fire! Cease! Save your powder," Kurt shouted, then added quietly, "We'll need it later…"

Kurt knew the green-skins would be back in daylight to try them again. There was much to do: strengthen the defenses, give people some rest or they'd be less effective tomorrow, arm every woman and child who could hold a weapon. Retreat was no longer an option; outside the village they'd be surrounded and slaughtered. All they could do was prepare to defend.

And hope the messenger had reached his destination, otherwise this would only delay their deaths.

************************************

A kilometer from the village, a goblin shaman was happily chewing on a freshly roasted horse.

************************************

I yawned. Early morning. The lecture hall was full of people.

"…today we will examine one of the three largest uprisings in the Magocracy. You could say that while it did not lead to the collapse, it served as the basis for subsequent political processes that eventually did. So, first row, fifth seat, would you like to tell us what today's topic will be?"

The lecturer pointed to a girl who had raised her hand.

"The Necromancer's Rebellion? And… may I step out?"

"No and no, to both questions. We already covered Arkhan the Black's Rebellion last week. Today we will talk about the second-largest uprising to shake the empire: the rebellion of Archmagister Ozar. And let me make it clear from the start: while we will call him simply Archmagister, it's important to remember that he was at the first rank of that title. Even during his life, he found the 'Lesser' prefix insulting, as he was the most powerful mage of that time. Even before the rebellion, he lobbied within the Lodge to change the standard ranking system for mages, so in some historical documents you might find him mentioned as a full Archmagister — but this is not correct. Now that we all remember this point, let us begin with the man himself, his path to power, and his political career…"

The lecturer droned on, but the rest was boring even for me.

Damn that ambassador!

Yes, Nerd had been quite helpful. He'd brainstormed and, reluctantly, suggested luring the Prince on a hunt outside the city, even arranging an opportunity for the Prince and me to speak and discreetly pass on the proposal…

But he'd done it at the cost of sticking us into one of the academy's lectures for students! And not even a useful one like alchemy or at least magical theory… oh no! Chuckling into his mustache, he'd dragged us to a history lecture, muttering about how young people know nothing these days.

As if the Commonwealth hadn't rewritten history to suit itself! Well, I can't say for sure if they had, but in their place, I certainly would have.

Now we sat like two woodpeckers in the back row…

I'd like to say we looked like dignified Commonwealth education inspectors… but in reality we looked more like students who'd been held back five years in a row.

Especially the Prince. Sleepy and irritable, he had ordered that he not be disturbed and was now dozing beside me. Well, that was fine. Since the lectures would last until midday, he'd have time not only to catch up on sleep but also to get bored. Then I could nudge him toward the hunt.

"…but even after becoming a full member of the Lodge, Ozar felt no satisfaction. He believed that his overwhelming magical power entitled him to more. Thus began the conspiracy to reform the collegial system of Imperial governance into an autocracy…"

I yawned again and, out of boredom, began sharpening my quill. Honestly, I was tempted to work on something, but leaving written records for the enemy would be foolish.

"…Dorn," the lecturer finished a sentence.

I turned to the Prince. He was still asleep, face buried in the desk. The lecturer continued his talk without paying any attention to the snoring Stefan. So he hadn't been addressing him. I set aside my quill and listened.

"…but the forces were unequal. Thus, the Lodge gained the upper hand, and the magical confrontation lasted for several days. While the rebels had quality on their side, good logistics allowed the loyalists to outpace them significantly in replacing their losses. By the middle of the second day, it was clear that unless decisive measures were taken, Ozar would be defeated. And such measures were found: the Archmagister sent the alchemists and metal mages who supported the rebellion into the ritual circles. Although later, at the tribunal, Magister Rnich claimed he had opposed this decision, we have no evidence he tried to stop it. Such desperate actions helped tip the scales in the rebels' favor, but the loyalists responded just as decisively by drawing lots and sending every tenth person into the ritual circles. As a result, the Capital held. The Archmagister's plan failed, but he was not ready to surrender…" The lecturer paused as the lecture hall doors opened.

"Sorry I'm late. May I come in?" said a pretty girl in a form-fitting, snow-white robe.

"Minus five points for being late. Take your seat. Ahem. Now, after the defeat in the battle for the Capital, Ozar decided to follow his backup plan. He intended to cross the Dead Marshes and capture the Empire's second-largest city to declare independence and negotiate peace. However, the earlier failure had severely damaged the cohesion of his army. Magister Rnich, realizing there was no prospect of continuing the struggle, left the rebels, hoping to bargain for pardon from the Lodge. Nearly a third of the surviving mages did the same, seriously weakening the rebel forces…"

Meanwhile, the girl climbed up to us and took the seat beside the sleeping Prince.

"Political allies abandoned him one after another as well. However, the Archmagister still had reason to believe he was the main fighting force and had no intention of giving up. You may ask, how did he plan to cross swamps tainted with necrotic energy? We do not know for certain what he was counting on. One theory suggests that an underground group of future Theocracy fanatics promised him protection from magic. Another says he managed to reach an agreement with Arkhan the Black… The end was the same regardless. Gathering all their strength, the Lodge struck a crushing blow to the Dead Marshes, furthering their transformation into a desert. Ozar and his followers perished, never achieving their goals…"

"Is he asleep?" the girl whispered to me, nodding toward the Prince.

I nodded.
 

"…Of course, after the suppression of the rebellion, there was an extensive wave of purges. All houses and clans of fire mages that had in any way supported Ozar were expelled from the capital to the territory now known as Ashir. Alchemists and metal mages suffered greatly; their representatives were stripped of their seats in the Lodge, and their businesses were nationalized. As a result, their attempt to join the rebellion to increase their importance in the Lodge and improve their living conditions had the opposite effect. Rank-and-file mages were bound to servitude, and Magister Rnich was sent on an honorary expedition to the center of the world, from which, as expected, he never returned. The Rnich and Dolgy branches suffered heavy losses, which eventually forced them to merge into a single house, now known as Dorn. Worst of all, the turmoil allowed religious fanatics to lay the groundwork for further expansion. The mass casualties among common people caused by the rebellion led to an unprecedented surge of faith, and even some low-ranking mages, who were also sacrificed, sympathized with the churchmen's ideas. In conclusion, the Archmagister's rebellion seriously shook the stability of the Empire and laid the foundation for the further unrest known in history as the Age of Strife. That's all for today, and tomorrow we will discuss the history of religious fanaticism from ancient times to the present day. The lecture will be titled 'From the One to Polytheism and Back Again.' And I advise you not to skip it—remember, the cults of the old gods will be on the exam!"

The bell signaling the break rang through the Academy.

The Prince stretched, yawning desperately.

"Thank Merlin that's over. Oh, and who might you be, my dear?"

"Malvina. A pleasure to meet you," the girl said, lowering her eyes shyly.

Alright, enough. Before someone whisked the Prince away, I had to act.

Coughing lightly, I patted him on the shoulder.

"Stefan, didn't you feel like having some fun this evening?"

"I'm thinking about it right now," he replied, devouring the girl with his eyes.

"How about a hunt? Outside the city."

"Hm." The Prince turned to me thoughtfully. "Well, why not? Last time was quite fun. We just need someone to distract that bore Nerd, or he'll lecture us again about how it harms good neighborly relations."

A knocking echoed through the hall. I turned from the Prince and glanced at the lectern. The lecturer was gathering his papers, and in his place stood the Magister, tapping his staff against the podium. The room instantly fell silent.

"Please stay for a couple of minutes, I have a small announcement. This semester, to develop attentiveness, we will conduct an exercise in detecting shadow magic. I have specially invited one of our graduates to the Academy, who will occasionally use his gift. Anyone who notices him will receive an automatic pass in any subject of their choice. Whoever helps determine his identity or manages to catch him — in addition to the passes, I will take as my personal apprentice and promise to give no fewer than five lessons. Submit any suspicions to the patrols, but remember that malicious slander or hooliganism will be punished very severely, up to and including expulsion from the Academy. I trust everyone remembers the difference between dark magic and shadow magic? Back row, if you please." The Magister's eyes crossed on our gallery, and I noticed the new acquaintance raising her hand.

"The main difference is that shadow magic doesn't work in complete darkness. It is quite narrowly specialized, and the strength of its adepts depends on the strength of those who oppose them."

"Plus five points, Malvina." Magister Igni nodded under his red beard. "I will add that because bearers of this gift are extremely rare, and their abilities vary greatly, we know less about the powers of shadows than we would like. I advise everyone to use magical sight more often and watch for suspicious behavior from shadows. Thank you for your attention. I look forward to the most attentive student, who will have the honor of becoming my pupil."

The Magister smiled amiably and headed to the neighboring lecture hall — apparently to repeat the announcement.

"Well, see you tonight. I'm going to take a walk with this little darling, and you can think of a way to get rid of Nerd," the Prince said, leading his new acquaintance by the hand.

"And will you take me too, to hunt peasants?" she asked, clinging to Stefan.

I froze.

Wait. Hunt… peasants?