Chapter 60: Stranger than Fiction
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Chapter 60: Stranger than Fiction
Stranger than Fiction
The bare stone walls of the Lyceum felt dull compared to the decorated marble halls where Martel had spent twice an evening this fiveday. Not only the ornaments, but the lack of music, rich foods, and any sign of festivities despite this being summer solstice. The Lyceum could only boast of one thing; it had magic. As he arrived in class, Martel found a seat and waited for Master Fenrick to begin this Manday's lesson.
"The fiends of the Nether." Their teacher glanced over the classroom. "A dreadful subject, which we shall not dwell upon, but at least one lesson must be devoted to them."
Martel thought again about the statue of Atreus and wondered at what kind of magic battle was entailed by fighting these monsters.
"We have no illustrations of how they might look, which is perhaps for the best. Our written descriptions of them are little better, often disagreeing with each other," Fenrick explained. "This may not be because they are wrong, but rather, because the fiends are far more diverse than our own kind."
"So how are they described?" asked a novice.
"In all manners you might imagine. Some have many arms, others slither like snakes. One eye or countless. Hairless skin or fur of any colour. Teeth sharp as a predator's, or a slit where a mouth should be." Fenrick looked from student to student, smirking at their uncomfortable expressions. "This would suggest that either the fiends of the Nether are as diverse as the animals of our world, or perhaps that they do not have physical forms as we understand it."
"But master, they're not here anymore, right?"
"No. None have been sighted since the Archeans disappeared. We don't know the connection between the Nether and the wizards of Archen, and I hope we'll never have to find out."
~
Martel looked at him. "He was about to kill you when I threw that golden chain around his neck."
"Maybe. We will never know now, will we?" Maximilian looked around with a superior expression.
"Come on," Eleanor said to the others. "We should thank the players for performing your story and compliment them on the acting feat of making Maximilian almost likeable."
~
The actors were in high spirits, which only climbed higher seeing the trio of mages. "Our heroes," Regnar exclaimed, puffing on his pipe. They sat in a small courtyard created between the stage on one side and their carts and wagons on the other.
"What do you think of our tale?" The storyteller practically beamed.
"It captured my likeness well enough," Maximilian considered.
"I have a few notes concerning your attention to detail," Eleanor remarked.
"It was perfect!" Martel's wide eyes underlined his enthusiasm.
The actors raised cups with cheers upon hearing the final assessment. More wine was brought out to supply each of the guests, paving the way for further merriment and revelry. Ian, the boy in bright clothes who collected payment from the audience, showed himself as an adept juggler with a knife from each belt of the three mages. The storyteller played a harp while others sang, giving Martel the opportunity to pull Eleanor to her feet and whirl her around. In this manner, the small group spent the evening with a solstice celebration of their own.
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Chapter 60: Stranger than Fiction
Stranger than Fiction
The bare stone walls of the Lyceum felt dull compared to the decorated marble halls where Martel had spent twice an evening this fiveday. Not only the ornaments, but the lack of music, rich foods, and any sign of festivities despite this being summer solstice. The Lyceum could only boast of one thing; it had magic. As he arrived in class, Martel found a seat and waited for Master Fenrick to begin this Manday's lesson.
"The fiends of the Nether." Their teacher glanced over the classroom. "A dreadful subject, which we shall not dwell upon, but at least one lesson must be devoted to them."
Martel thought again about the statue of Atreus and wondered at what kind of magic battle was entailed by fighting these monsters.
"We have no illustrations of how they might look, which is perhaps for the best. Our written descriptions of them are little better, often disagreeing with each other," Fenrick explained. "This may not be because they are wrong, but rather, because the fiends are far more diverse than our own kind."
"So how are they described?" asked a novice.
"In all manners you might imagine. Some have many arms, others slither like snakes. One eye or countless. Hairless skin or fur of any colour. Teeth sharp as a predator's, or a slit where a mouth should be." Fenrick looked from student to student, smirking at their uncomfortable expressions. "This would suggest that either the fiends of the Nether are as diverse as the animals of our world, or perhaps that they do not have physical forms as we understand it."
"But master, they're not here anymore, right?"
"No. None have been sighted since the Archeans disappeared. We don't know the connection between the Nether and the wizards of Archen, and I hope we'll never have to find out."
~
Martel looked at him. "He was about to kill you when I threw that golden chain around his neck."
"Maybe. We will never know now, will we?" Maximilian looked around with a superior expression.
"Come on," Eleanor said to the others. "We should thank the players for performing your story and compliment them on the acting feat of making Maximilian almost likeable."
~
The actors were in high spirits, which only climbed higher seeing the trio of mages. "Our heroes," Regnar exclaimed, puffing on his pipe. They sat in a small courtyard created between the stage on one side and their carts and wagons on the other.
"What do you think of our tale?" The storyteller practically beamed.
"It captured my likeness well enough," Maximilian considered.
"I have a few notes concerning your attention to detail," Eleanor remarked.
"It was perfect!" Martel's wide eyes underlined his enthusiasm.
The actors raised cups with cheers upon hearing the final assessment. More wine was brought out to supply each of the guests, paving the way for further merriment and revelry. Ian, the boy in bright clothes who collected payment from the audience, showed himself as an adept juggler with a knife from each belt of the three mages. The storyteller played a harp while others sang, giving Martel the opportunity to pull Eleanor to her feet and whirl her around. In this manner, the small group spent the evening with a solstice celebration of their own.
Chapter 60: Stranger than FictionStranger than FictionThe bare stone walls of the Lyceum felt dull compared to the decorated marble halls where Martel had spent twice an evening this fiveday. Not only the ornaments, but the lack of music, rich foods, and any sign of festivities despite this being summer solstice. The Lyceum could only boast of one thing; it had magic. As he arrived in class, Martel found a seat and waited for Master Fenrick to begin this Manday's lesson."The fiends of the Nether." Their teacher glanced over the classroom. "A dreadful subject, which we shall not dwell upon, but at least one lesson must be devoted to them."Martel thought again about the statue of Atreus and wondered at what kind of magic battle was entailed by fighting these monsters."We have no illustrations of how they might look, which is perhaps for the best. Our written descriptions of them are little better, often disagreeing with each other," Fenrick explained. "This may not be because they are wrong, but rather, because the fiends are far more diverse than our own kind.""So how are they described?" asked a novice."In all manners you might imagine. Some have many arms, others slither like snakes. One eye or countless. Hairless skin or fur of any colour. Teeth sharp as a predator's, or a slit where a mouth should be." Fenrick looked from student to student, smirking at their uncomfortable expressions. "This would suggest that either the fiends of the Nether are as diverse as the animals of our world, or perhaps that they do not have physical forms as we understand it.""But master, they're not here anymore, right?""No. None have been sighted since the Archeans disappeared. We don't know the connection between the Nether and the wizards of Archen, and I hope we'll never have to find out."~Martel looked at him. "He was about to kill you when I threw that golden chain around his neck.""Maybe. We will never know now, will we?" Maximilian looked around with a superior expression."Come on," Eleanor said to the others. "We should thank the players for performing your story and compliment them on the acting feat of making Maximilian almost likeable."~The actors were in high spirits, which only climbed higher seeing the trio of mages. "Our heroes," Regnar exclaimed, puffing on his pipe. They sat in a small courtyard created between the stage on one side and their carts and wagons on the other."What do you think of our tale?" The storyteller practically beamed."It captured my likeness well enough," Maximilian considered."I have a few notes concerning your attention to detail," Eleanor remarked."It was perfect!" Martel's wide eyes underlined his enthusiasm.The actors raised cups with cheers upon hearing the final assessment. More wine was brought out to supply each of the guests, paving the way for further merriment and revelry. Ian, the boy in bright clothes who collected payment from the audience, showed himself as an adept juggler with a knife from each belt of the three mages. The storyteller played a harp while others sang, giving Martel the opportunity to pull Eleanor to her feet and whirl her around. In this manner, the small group spent the evening with a solstice celebration of their own.
