OEW

The previous two days were a blur of activity that had nothing to do with Orison. Lyra escorted Droya around to ply her merchant know-how, settle inheritance funds and finally to speak with the acting legate that had reached Whiteriver the day before. Being as he had assaulted the last legate he spoke to, Orison was not allowed to attend but Court Mage Gerrald assisted Droya with the negotiations on behalf of Lord Whiteriver as a part of that compromise.

When Droya filled Orison in on the meeting contents later that afternoon, the piece of news that surprised him the most had nothing to do with information pertaining to himself at all. It was the geographical and geopolitical map. Over the decade that Ruby Mountain had been devastating the main island of the archipelago, Centerland and Emerald Vale had slowly gobbled up all the mainland and coastal water rights once held by the Ashland Kingdom under various, fairly legitimate means. Noble defection and the slow whittling away of holdings to procure aid and shelter for those who wished to remain autonomous had devastated the once wealthy and affluent kingdom. Even Summerland Domain had gotten in on the action via a mysterious eastern sea route to claim the westernmost island holdings separated from any military or financial assistance.

As Orison stared at the world map in front of him, he suddenly felt like never before that this world was not a place he recognized. The Emerald Vale covered nearly the entire southwest corner of the super continent. Now that it had managed to snatch western coast regions, Centerland political boundaries made it look somewhat like a horizontally stretched and super sized Ohio. The Highland wasn't overly different but the semi circle of mostly unlivable jutting islands and semi active sea volcanoes demarcating its north to eastern sea borders had turned it into a nearly subtropic land with a foggy and mysterious northern sea.

The two that really made Orison baffled was the Redlands that lay like a fat comma with a trailing tail and it's neighbor, The Marshlands. Together, the two created something that looked like a fancy, pancake house syrup bottle with a large thumb grip that created a southern sub-continental peninsula. Of note were the bottom half of the inland sea between the two called Terror Strait and a blob of land towards the bottom of The Marshlands called Dust Swamp nicknamed The Abyssal Empire. Those who had attempted to explore either area rarely returned and those who did, didn't have anything unusual to say about it except those who returned from Dust Swamp tended to die from a strange wasting sickness whose symptoms made Orison think of cancer from radiation exposure.

A large area of sea, demarcated on either side of the map by dotted lines, was referred to as The Veiled Sea. Over the years, many expeditions had been made into it but few had returned and the reports given varied widely. The only thing that seemed the same was that there was a large land mass there and even survivors of previous expeditions. Five such hardy survivors had even managed to return. Two were mentally disturbed after having spent decades practically alone and couldn't give coherent testimony. The other three simply spoke of lands that didn't match the other's descriptions, from deadly disease infested jungle to barren and inhospitable canyons.

Originally, when Orison had read about it in a history book at the manor he had considered the watery region to be the stomping grounds of a secret order. It took up nearly a third of the world, however, and could potentially hold land mass that wouldn't be too shy of competing with the super continent he stood on. There were many questionable assumptions and poorly understood parts of the history books he read that made a great deal more sense after seeing the map.

The resources, manpower and promised holdings Droya was informing him of became buzzing background noise in his head. Placing all the pieces together, Orison realized that the game he knew was little more than partially inspired by this world somehow. He began wondering if the small coincidences that had coerced him into believing the two more intimately connected could almost all be contributed with the cosmic scale sh**storm he was temporarily at the center of and his first poorly worded wish.

Wherever he was heading for now, Orison knew he'd be returning to the Northlands someday. Intuition and reason both were telling him that a myriad of different answers he wanted and some he may not but needed, lied somewhere in this place. It was, after all, the place in the world that was least alien to him.

"Little cub, are you even listening anymore? I know it's a lot to take in and you have plenty of time to do it. Here, take the letter and official paperwork I don't need to carry on me. They're probably safest with you anyway," Droya said a little exasperated.

Orison nodded absentmindedly and stowed them away in his space.

Hesitant and a little worried, Droya said, " About last night. Did, uh, you fight with your brother over something I can help you understand?"

The awkward conversation he'd been hoping he'd be able to avoid had pushed Orison from his morbid thoughts as he said, "It looked a lot worse than it actually was. In a weird way I think we were just trying a little too hard to make the sibling bond we have less technical, a little more real... About things that may or may not have happened that are not a son's concern, if you're happy then I'm happy for you."

In a panicked voice, Droya said, "You know I loved your father and it was ju_"

Playing up his age, Orison stuck fingers in his ears and made raspberry noises until her mouth stopped moving then said, "All I saw was a 2 second shot of a white backside before I hightailed downstairs. I will not speak of Venito do not ask of me that which I do not dare speak... I have no thoughts on it. I do not WANT to have thoughts on it. I fully support your right to enjoyment of life and the privacy with which to do so. In fact, the privacy is mandatory enforced to the degree of the power of which I am invested."

Seeing the dubious and still anxious look on Droya's face, Orison stood up and placed his hand over his heart then borrowing the wisdom of great past men said, "I hold these truths to be self evident, that all peoples are born with the inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I have a dream that all peoples will one day be able to take for granted the right to life and liberty free of the shadow of fear. I hope and long for the day that all peoples will unite to insure that all have equal opportunity to the pursuit of happiness regardless of race, gender, nationality or any other difference of being, creed or thought that does not harm that equal opportunity."

Lyra, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation said, "Wouldn't it be simpler to say that all are born equal?"

Orison sadly said, "We aren't. Some are born healthy while others are born sick. Some are born with talent and others are born with disabilities. If we protect liberty and the pursuit of happiness, some will be born with the advantages their predecessors had earned them while others will be born with disadvantages. To say we are born equal gives those with advantage the ability to blame and ridicule the disadvantaged, as if they are responsible for how they are born. It also empowers the disadvantaged to justify stealing from those who have what they do not instead of striving for their own accomplishments."

Lyra sighed wistfully, "I'd almost like to ask what equal opportunity actually means and how you'd expect it to be insured but I've also been tempted to cut my own face up. I'll resist for the same reason."

Curious, Droya asked, "What reason is that?"

Lyra smirked. "Some things are too painful to do to yourself... Still, that's quite the ambition you have there, Orison."

Orison looked at her wide eyed and said, "Ambition? I have a dream. And like all good dreams, you only share them with the people you love and trust then work for them silently."

Lyra patted Droya's shoulders and said, "I take back what I said before. I think both of us got the son of Baulder we were meant to have. At least the mischief Venito gets up to, I can see coming."

Orison thought to himself, "I doubt that. I doubt that, so hard."

***

Nearly another week went by as resources and people were gathered. Droya would begin the days determined and come back in the evening looking drained. When Morrel and Rithus arrived, it signaled the groups return to the inn for two days. Gan, who had returned two days earlier than the ex-slave pair, arrived more chipper than Orison had ever seen the scout but it didn't take long for the new daily grind to return Gan to more comfortable stoniness.

Morrel was the blessing that Droya needed badly as his flair for accounting and organization was unrivaled amid their group. Gan was more than ecstatic to leave daily mundane details to Rithus, who was spoiled for inactivity and longing for meaningful endeavor. It was a mixed blessing for Orison, however. The carefree days consolidating magic and studying the two crucial new models he traded for were over. Back were the days of splitting his time between arduous training and limited magical study time.

When looking over their route, Orison was pleasantly surprised to discover that a majority of the Northland portion would retrace their steps back towards the manor they had once lived in. This stemmed from knowledge that Venito was planning on moving his main residence to said manor which meant that their trip would have the additional security and company of Lyra and two soldiers which accompanied Venito on his official duties. Lost in his own schedule, however, he failed to discover that Droya had made other plans for their personal travel.

When the day of departure came, Orison was taken off guard when they headed toward Whiteriver Keep instead of going south with the rest. The lineup was even more bizarre. Aside from the mother-son pair there were Rithus and a Redlander centurion captain by the name of Nadir.

Orison looked questioningly at Droya which prompted her to explain, "Sorry sweetling, I've been so busy that I forgot. There was a last minute change to plans. Due to the sudden loss of the consulate's captain and post desertion of the last consul, Centerland has paid a hefty price to expedite our arrival. Aside from the two of us and Captain Nadir, I only had an opportunity for one more person and Morrel convinced me to bring Rithus as he'd take poorly to the cold exposure when they went through the mountain pass.

Abashedly Rithus said, "Apologies for the inconvenience, Young Master Cantrip."

Orison smiled and said, "It's only been a couple of weeks, Rithus. Are you going to go back to that tired way of addressing me? You're part of the family. There's no real inconvenience." Extending a hand to the captain, Orison continued, " A pleasure to be working with you, captain."

With a weary expression, Captain Nadir ignored Orison's outstretched hand but crisply half bowed to him and said, "The pleasure is mine, I'm sure, Legate-in-training Cantrip."

Ignoring the hint of frosty professionalism, Orison said cheekily, "And just when I thought the titles people called me couldn't get more starched... Rithus, I apologize. Your way of address is far more pleasant to hear."

Droya told the captain conspiratorially, "My little cub isn't much for formality but he takes his responsibilities seriously. Truth is, you'll find that outside of formal duties, finances and provisioning are what I'll be in charge of. Orison here has already sketched out everything else. Don't let his age fool you or you'll find yourself completely danced around."

As Nadir's gaze shifted to cautionary curiosity, Orison said irritably, "What's next, a warning label? My one and only advantage is surprise, you know."

Droya chided, "Captain Nadir is overqualified and possesses an impeccable record of performance. We are lucky to have him. There's no need for... any measures."

Orison looked to Nadir and said, "Fellow victim of diversity initiatives?"

Woodenly, Nadir said, "I'm proud to serve in any way my empire sees fit."

Flippantly, Orison exclaimed, "Show a little of the white eyed wolf inside, Captain. Schemers don't feel comfortable using those who hide their ambition too well and anyone with real power in Centerland is guaranteed to be one."

In a warning tone, Droya said, "Orison."

Covering his eyes with an arm, Orison said dramatically, "Such is the fate of a child of a widow. The first handsome man that comes along and all my appreciated wit is suddenly a shameful thing I must hide."

Doya reached out and smacked the back of his head with enough force to make Orison's vision blur for a moment. Through the misty eyes caused by his smarting scalp, Orison saw an amused smirk ghost across the captain's face.

Later, while the three household members waited for the transportation specialist mage to arrive and the captain was in communication with the temporary legate turned consul, Droya fumed, "What's gotten into you today!? It may not have been the most embarrassing moment of my life but it was pretty high up there, Orison."

With a serious face lacking all humor it had displayed before, he responded, "He'll be a lot more assured working with me if he knows you have the ability to reign me in. Besides, mom, he's wearing a promise ring. A little flattery is harmless and it'll help him warm up to us."

With an averted glance she said, "It's fake. It's made to look like a promise ring but it's actually a hidden excerpt from a popular Redland warrior's philosophy book. Two of the lines in it's script turn the meaning from 'a promise of love' to 'a premise of life' or better translated as 'a reason to live'... I noticed it and out of curiosity I asked him if he remembers his reason to live. I was trying to let him know I'm not an uneducated or unobservant person but with what you said, he could easily misunderstand my intentions!"

After Orison apologized, the rest of the wait passed in silence. Droya had yet to calm down enough to forgive and anything Orison could say beyond the apology he gave would be better spent looking contrite, he thought. Trapped in the uneasy silence, Rithus suddenly found the carved stone under his feet to be fascinating.

Teleportation by hand was a tricky business. Gerrald warned the group of four a total of three times about the need for absolute silence and stillness once the process began. Backs facing each other and personal effects stacked carefully in the center, Orison took the safest position directly in front of the casting mage. In other circumstances he'd want his mother to take the position but an opportunity to study a free hand version of the model would get Orison one step closer to obtaining the spell himself.

Orison took note as he thought, " So it's only a master model by technicality. It's extra dimensional aspect that makes it such, is fairly shallow and the difficulty of learning it lies in understanding simple tesseract construction. I'm sure that mages of this world have a hard time envisioning it but who on earth hasn't seen an animation of a cube within a cube shifting to a cube outside a cube?... I think the computer lab at my high school had a default '4D' screensaver at one point...

"You're kidding right!? The gibberish on The Order of Silence's cave gate was just elvish trigonometry?... Okay. So Trig for coordinates, transition markers between two cubic volumes and the rest I'm not clear on except the little part there that's used to detonate the priority target. Ha, he uses 'space' instead of 'life'. That's gonna make the edges nice and sharp... What?"

Orison noticed that the spell was held for a second in completion. Right before it was activated, the mage changed a subtle portion of the formula before knocking off the chalk dust he was using to make his calculations with. The mage's assistant glanced at the mage with a 'now?' look on his face and sneezed.

Recognizing that the mage's small calculation change had reduced the volume by over a third and the use of space instead of life as priority made the spell boundary an executioner's blade, Orison realized that the mage had murderous design a split second before the assistant's staged sneeze. Too late to escape the edged magic death cage, Orison tossed the top two pieces of luggage out right as the assistant sneezed.

As the two pieces of luggage passed through the closing boundary, partially sheared, Orison yelled, "Group huddle!"

During their time at the manor, Morrel had introduced the idea of group tactics, something that mages especially need since sometimes their spells were inherently dangerous or could go wrong. In a two birds one stone deal, Morrel would train Orison while adding some entertainment and exercise to everyone's day by having the other members of the house join in to be his teammates. He hated that the given reason was always 'mage screwed up his spell' and Orison would have to figure out a way to keep his teammates safe from his error. 'Group huddle' was for wide area and other unavoidable collateral damage.

Since Droya and Rithus had already saw the luggage toss out of the corners of their eyes, they responded to the call without much delay. In a practiced moved that Orison had been victim to before, Droya snaked out her hand to the back of Nadir's neck. She shifted her opposite leg to forcefully spin the startled captain around before face planting him into the luggage as the spilling cubic curtain of light whisked them away. Nadir's confused shout of protest was drowned out by a startled scream from Rithus as a part of the captain's sword and Rithus' tail were cleanly cut through.