Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 75

Marches could now see why Lysandra relied much on her council of spies, rather than whatever the Royal Guard had to say about matters around the kingdom.

It was quite to his discredit that despite being the Royal Sorcerer, he'd had no idea why a researcher from the academy had vanished for years. He'd known the academy was an unfair place, but what had he done about it?

He squared his shoulders, standing upright. "I should do that, I think. It's high time I left my office to venture out into the city, maybe even beyond it."

Ryffin grinned, giving a mighty thump to his back. "I'd be happy to accompany you when you do. But one thing at a time. You must make the academy a better place, so no one should have to suffer like Avalyn did."

Marches knew of this sorceress all too well, because it was her works on necromancy Ryffin spent days and weeks poring over. It'd gotten so bad that he, then a young first-year madly in love (not a bit less than he was now), was afraid the alchemist was so enamoured by a dead sorceress, he was planning to bring her back by her own necromancy.

"So you believe Avalyn is alive?" he asked, trying not to sound too relieved.

Ryffin nodded as he finished another rune-letter. "Alive and the one behind those sorcerous monstrosities. I've spoken to Eliora about the autopsies, gathered first hand data from the soldiers who fought the first Vasaen, and another who showed up later. She has followed through all the principles stated in her work. And I refuse to believe someone like her would yield to a couple of hired killers."

Then he heaved a sigh. "But in the end it matters little. We still must fight the Vasaeni."

"Otherwise, the harmony between the realms would be disrupted," said Marches, the words coming to his lips on their own. "As stated in The Potion Brewer's Guide to Alchemical Theories."

Ryffin's eyes snapped up to meet his.

"The thirteenth volume. Fifth chapter-- if I'm not mistaken," Marches couldn't help but add, hoping it would negate the instances where he made a fool of himself in front of him. "I'm no great critic, but you got terribly sidelined from the actual subject in the last volume-- in the best way possible."

Ryffin stared at him, eyes wide. "You read my books?"

Marches was in utter disbelief. Of course he'd devoured every single word Ryffin Wellis had ever put down on paper. How could he not?

"Yes?" He said, almost offended. "All of them. Well-- not all of them, obviously-- you're still working on the fourteenth volume. Once this mess is over, I think you ought to consider teaching at the academy and revive the ancient arts once again."

He fumbled with his next words, because Ryffin watched him in a steady gaze, a strange smile on his lips. "And-- and--"

Marches didn't think he would even spell his own name right, not when this bewitching alchemist looked at him like that. The urge to run was strong again.

"You contradict yourself. You do not even allow the usage of harmless ritual chalks, you shudder at the thought of trading at Ebon street-- yet you've been reading tomes on forbidden necromancy?" Ryffin said, grinning, "why friend, you're downright scandalous!"

Marches huffed an air of mock arrogance. "Well, anything's fair for the pursuit of knowledge. Is it not what they teach us at the academy?"

"Oh yes," Ryffin said slowly. "But do you know what's more scandalous?"

Marches got no time to respond. Next thing he knew, his arms were pinned above his head and the wall pressed up against his back. The lantern clattered across the flagstones. Fingers grasped his jaw to raise his face, their grip roughened with chalk dust.