Fantasy Romance
The five brigands accosting the young woman and her sister told Faramund to mind his own business even as the two women begged him for help.
He slew the first two before they could reach for the swords.
The second two followed.
The last one ran, but a dagger to his back dropped him.
That had changed. It may not be right, but it would protect the others.
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I studied the great callificars, learned how they inspired those whom they led.
Tactics.
Strategy.
Politics.
If the Architect willed me to follow this path, I would be the best I could possibly be.
The Incarium was promoting me. Again.
I did not wish to lead men. I wished to end mages.
All mages.
Maybe then villages wouldn’t burn when the insanity took the mages.
But I would do as I was commanded.
As was the Architect’s divine will.
I could not doubt.
It would slow my sword arm.
Make me vulnerable.
Make me weak.
And then I would burn.
The nightmares came back that night.
How many mages had I ended in my tenure as a callificar?
I couldn’t count them.
How many had I saved?
None. Not even my own sister. There was no cure for the madness but death.
Or so the Incarium told me.
