Much of the time we spent in the Temini Barony was accompanied by an atmosphere of dread. The servants avoided Ornookian, Corindrian, and me as much as possible. The Baron refused to speak to either of us apprentices directly, preferring to provide anything we needed to know through our master. It was clear he wished to be rid of all of us as quickly as possible but was unable to, for the kingdom politics of Moringia were not that simple. The kingdom provided much for the Temini Barony, and Corindrian had made it clear that we would not leave until Darronin forwent his refusal to aid Arimens and the rest of Moringia in that dreaded war. 

 

During many dinners the virtuous Baron would remain steadfast in his refusal, unwavered by the conversations him and my master had held in private.

 

“Corindrian. You are honorable for a mage and know intimately the matters of my kingdom,” the baron would often begin, “but I see no purpose to intervene in this conflict. It would do nothing but bring woe to my people. I will not lose a generation of my land’s children to border squabbling. You are well-read in magicks, you and your apprentices must be knowledgeable of the foul arts desperate men are drawn to.”

 

Necromancy. The mere hint of it would bring silence to the room. 

 

Of course it was no longer a mere border squabble. The armies of Junumianis had made their way to Dew’s Flat by the time Ornookian, Corindrian, and I had left Arimens. The war had become an all-consuming effort for each faction. To surrender at this point was not an option, the eastern empire of Junumianis sought the lands west of the river Kalipaonin just as unrelentingly as Moringia craved the gold mines of its enemy. The two monarchies had never warred in their centuries-long existence. It was those who hungered for power and wealth, seduced by the illusions of glory, that controlled the conflicting forces. 

 

Yet, virtuous men often fight in wars of greed in power, for even they are not immune to temptation and lies. I know not how Corindrian changed the mind of Darronin, but as the strangling winter lessened its chilled grip on the weather, the Baron began to observe the lessons the weathermaster gave to me and Ornookian in the library. 

 

At first I thought Darronin’s attendance was political in nature; that it would be only a matter of months until we were sent home with our diplomatic mission a failure. Perhaps if he were questioned by the regent, Darronin’s attendance to our lessons would show that he heeded the things the kingdom had offered to him to contradict what we would speak of his stubbornness; that he was loyal to his duties only as far as he needed to be to express his fealty to the crown. 

 

That is what Ornookian and I reasoned at night, when Corindrian and the Baron could not hear our private discussions. But now, having many years between myself and the events that transpired in the Temini Barony I know that Darronin was simply a cautious man with deep reasons to fear magicks, who had begun to change his mind. For what reason, I do not know. Perhaps he simply gave in to Corindrian’s insistence. Perhaps he had new information that caused him to reflect on things. Or perhaps he was simply not as virtuous as I think he was, for Memory, like all things, is subject to Decay’s influence.

 

As winter was fading to spring, and after the baron had sat in on several lessons, it came as a surprise to myself and Ornookian to find ourselves invited along on a hunt with the baron’s only child and some of the minor nobility of the region. Darronin’s son, Nominon, named after Beauty’s saint, was roughly Jaryne’s age. Although Nominon, like many of the region, was deeply wary of magicks, I do believe the two would have been friends if they had met.

 

What came as more of a surprise to all of our small party of warlocks was that the baron requested we prepare some spells to assist in small ways. Darronin asked Corrindrian to keep the sky clear and the wind low to make tracking easier, Ornookian prepared a spell to help track elk and foxes, and I was asked to prepare a spell of fire for warmth and to illumine the trails when night set in (for the sun sets early in the far north.) Simple magicks for simple tasks; the baron could have asked for much more. 

 

However, to ask for more would have been to err and frighten those who attended the hunt. Darronin’s decision to ask for simple spells was a calculated effort to dispel the foul reputation magicks had long held in his dominion. With that invitation to practice magicks openly, Ornookian and I knew the baron was beginning to succumb to Corindrian’s efforts. That, and Corindrian was blunt with us as we prepared our spells the day before the hunt.

 

“Apprentices, it is of the utmost importance that your spells tomorrow showcase the most of your ability as possible. Darronin has begun to ease his worries on magicks and spellcraft, and we must take full advantage of this. To this end, your spells must not simply meet their function, but correspond to what good stories of mages the citizens of this barony would know. You must be like a bard, who delights the imaginations and desires of the audiences to which they recite the grand epics.”

 

I remembered my first encounter with magicks, with the skald who had traveled through my village many years ago. How the stars had sunk to the ground on silken strings, and how he had told me his magicks were but simple trickery: useless to me, and if I wanted to learn true magicks I would head to Arimens. I could not help but to smile, knowing that Ornookian, Corindrian, and I would have to rely on simple trickery to succeed in our diplomatic assignment.

 

The day of hunt began with a light rain, no doubt Corindrian’s doing. Those who had been invited on the hunt had gathered by the large front doors of the estate, making conversation amongst themselves and trying their best to avoid staring at any of us mages. Some of the group was certain of the hunt's cancellation, for they feared that the rain would cover up any tracks and make navigating the snowy terrain difficult, as it would most be ice. However, before any of them could decide upon not attending the hunt, the baron was quick to address those concerns.

 

“My noble guests, I have heard your worries. Certainly, this rain is not the proper weather for a winter hunt, and usually the time might be better spent indoors drinking and lamenting our lack of fortune. It is especially misfortune, for the skies this morning were clear until your arrival to my estate and a fortune teller had given me good auspices regarding this hunt: my son was to get his first elk. A pity! A shame! I had even hoped to introduce you to my honorable guests: mages from the far city of Arimens.”

 

Whispers immediately flooded the stone entrance of the baron’s home. The baron’s audience was not keen on mages, as was expected. But, being a confident man (perhaps, even, a rehearsed man), he turned to Corindrian and continued his address.

 

“Archmage Corindrian, it’s such a pity that this foul weather plagues us. I know little of magicks, but I have heard rumors that powerful and virtuous mages could bend the weather to their will. I assume such knowledge is difficult to come by, but perhaps you might be able to?”

 

Corindrian responded in a manner that was almost assuredly rehearsed. Ornookian and I knew he was not a confident speaker, and usually spent many days rehearsing before addressing the council; always in a peculiar lowering cadence. The cadence by which he spoke revealed to us (but not the baron's guests) that he had practiced.

 

“Honorable Baron Darronin Temini. I am humbled that you would ask of me if I was knowledgeable in such arts, and it is of good fortune that the weather is my domain of specialty. The spell to break this bad weather is complicated and ancient. If you would give me a moment of silence, I may be able to recall words of the first language and bring about the sun to accompany your hunt.”

 

The baron thanked Corindrian for his answer, and bid him to see if he could turn the foul weather away. The weathermaster began a long incantation, minutes in-length. At the end of the incantation, Corindrian knelt to the ground, and quickly blew at the ground, causing air to stir within the house. Paintings were shoke, and several of those in the room had to hold on to their hats for fear of loss. Suddenly, the air was still, and through the front windows one could see saint’s rays cast through the parting clouds. Corindrian had saved the hunt in dramatic fashion (and had even drawn some applause), and now it was up to Ornookian and myself to impress upon our wary audience

 

Nominon held a large smile on his face, for he had tried many times to hunt an elk to no avail and having heard of the auspicious prediction his father spoke of (probably fabrication) was eagerly leading the entire hunting party through the woods in search of beasts. However the young noble’s enthusiasm turned south the further we went, for it seemed that the footprints and other signs of beats commonly found in snow had been obscured by the earlier rain.

 

Noticing Nominon’s waning enthusiasm, many of the men in the hunting party began to suggest that these conditions weren’t ideal for a hunt, and that the time might be better spent indoors drinking. Hoping to keep them enthusiastic about the prospects of a successful hunt, Darronin addressed our group once more.

 

“The earlier weather seems to have made our task much more difficult. It is true that it is much more difficult to track beasts after rain, and the ice certainly does not aid us in finding game. If the conditions prove to be the same the further we walk along the estate, then perhaps we will have to turn back and spend the rest of the day merry-making and drinking.” 

 

Nominon’s shoulders became heavy with disappointment, and the men now talked more openly of ending the hunt early. Ornookian, realizing it was his opportunity to cast a spell, interjected.

 

“Lord Baron Darronin Temini. I do not mean to step out of bounds and offend you or make my master seem an inadequate mage, but I happen to know of a spell with which I can track the game we seek.”

 

Ornookian sought the nearest tree, and began a lengthy spell by pressing his hands against the icy bark. It seemed, almost, as if the mage whispered secrets to the tree, and soon it began to bend towards Ornookian as if to answer back. As the spell ended, the lowest section of the trunk began to boil like water, and reaching in Ornookion pulled out a hound made of wood and fungus. Along its back ran a pelt of winter wildflowers, glistening with morning dew.

 

“This is a hound of the forest,” Ornookian spoke to the crowd, “it will help us to survey the forest for game, and help us avoid the dangerous trails where men could get injured.”

 

The men of the party all stepped back from the hound, for like all men of Temini they held a deep mistrust of all magicks. Ornookian saw this, and was quick to try to make them at ease. To show the beast was under his control, he commanded it very specifically to stand on one leg, and to sit, and to climb a tree. While not all of the men with us were convinced of their safety, their worries were set aside enough to where their priority became to not offend the baron’s judgment in inviting the three wizards to the hunt. Soon the verdant hound led us safely through unmarked trails, followed next by the once-more enthusiastic Nominon, and then the rest of our party. I was at the back of all of the men, for I could not walk quickly in the slush. The baron, seeing that there was a danger of me falling too far behind, walked next to me, for he was a virtuous and empathetic man, even if he was still wary of magicks and mages and spellcraft.

 

Morning passed into midday. Several of the men had caught foxes, rabbits, and other small game, but Nominon’s elk still eluded the young noble. The sun had already begun to set, for that is the nature of winters in the far north, and once more the men on the hunting party spoke of drinking and merry-making, certain we would soon head back to the estate. As in many places, it is dangerous to hunt at night in Temini. Mistalkers emerge from the darkest shadows, wolves stalk for prey, and other unmentionable things wander the woods searching for men who wander in blackness. This is not to mention that those who wander late in the far north put themselves at risk of being bitten by frost or sudden bouts of confusion. 

 

Nominon however, was insistent on spending more time tracking an elk Ornookian’s hound had scented-out; the hound had been increasingly active and sensitive in recent minutes, no doubt sensing it nearby. As our party rested near a stream, Nominon pleaded to the baron to continue the hunt longer.

 

“Father, please hold the hunt longer,” the boy said, “Could not one of the mages light the way with their magicks? It should only be a few minutes longer until the stag is mine, and you did tell of that auspicious fortune.”

 

Seeing that it was now my turn to impress upon the men, I spoke to the baron that I had a spell that could light the way. Carefully I stepped on the frozen rocks next to the dark stream, for I heeded my master’s advice to craft a spell to impress upon those who were suspicious of spellcraft.

 

Dipping my staff into the stream, I spoke words of fire and warmth until steam rose from the waters. A trail of fire coursed under the current, until it snaked on to the shore. Small, six-legged lizards composed entirely of flame crawled from the crack of fire in the riverbed to the surface, gently illuminating the darkening grove. 

 

They scurried along the floor of the forest, hot enough to warm our party, but not enough to scorch or ignite the flora. By this spell we navigated the woods in search of the stag. 

 

Just as our party was to turn in, in defeat, Nominon quieted us and pointed far into the distance where stood upright a mighty and healthy stag; antlers branching as tall and as wide as a mighty tree. The young lad produced a crossbow, pre-pulled for the poundage on it was significant, and aimed with steady arms at the elk which stood still in fear. Nominon pressed the trigger, and the bolt flew true, striking the creature in its neck, killing it instantly.

 

Soon we all gathered around the dead creature, with its sad stony eyes unblinking, and its body completely limp and dripped red to the fire-lit snow. In that moment, in front of the corpse, the other members of our party began to change their minds on magicks, as the wretched war between Moringia and Junumianis had begun to taint their minds with promises of riches and glory.

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