Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 30: Apology by a Ran-Over Deer

"Ebanon Fernard," Seiren read out loud, tracing her fingers along the ink pen for a fourth time. Mages and officials passed her without a glance in her direction, talking in low tones amongst themselves, the sounds of their heeled boots echoing into the high ceiling.

She'd heard of that name before. During King's, perhaps? The council had granted her a hiatus on her research as there was a war fund shortage – as Loren had predicted – meaning mages had to liaise with benefactors in hopes of financial support for the troops. The instructions made her uneasy; this was a further step towards enrolling mages to become weapons of war. The mages' impartial roles thus far had already crumbled. Seiren's visit was nothing short of advocating warfare.

She leaned back in the perch of the circular window, looking out onto the council's square from the first floor. Topiary decorated the far outer edges; a stone fountain sat in the middle, water pouring out of the angel's hands at the top. People moved with purpose across the square, some of them sporting sweeping black cloaks lined with rainbow streaks, others simple civilians' capes. Her instructions sat on a bent knee; her other leg dangled and swung like a pendulum.

She'd read a lot of papers with Fernard's name. She frowned, racking her memories.

The afterlife, said Madeleine, throwing up a still from several years back: Seiren, poring over books spilled all over the tiny study table in the library out of hours. The candles threatened to extinguish, the wax nearly gone. Moonlight streamed through the dusty windows.

Of course. Ebanon Fernard was one of the leading philosophers speculating about the afterlife. Seiren's frenzy in seeking methods to bring Madeleine back had broached onto that topic, too. Fernard had published multiple theories into life after death, including the return of souls to the all-encompassing Being, the breakdown of the biological body into the natural ecosystem, and the utilisation of souls as a source of energy and the possibility the reverse could be achieved – the last of which Seiren hadn't wanted to delve into further, for the idea was so repulsive.

Having learned about the existence of chaos magic now and seen it in action, she could see why Fernard would propose such a thing. It was also obvious from his research he was obsessed with the afterlife.

Not unlike us back then, really, said Madeleine in a small voice. I wonder who he's lost to totally immerse himself like this.

Seiren tilted her head back. The clouds floated lazily across the sky, which turned dark earlier with each passing day. She tugged her cloak closer around her. The runed papers rustled in the pockets. The job request hadn't asked for much, merely for creation of small arts and crafts through the use of magic. Nothing illegal or disturbing in the wording. If she pleased him enough, he might invest into the war funding.

It's still an odd way to secure funding for war, said Madeleine. Historically, the kings have just raised taxes to fund it. I wonder why Pollin didn't do that.

Loren said he's not announced much detail about the war either. Surely if a king wants his people to support him and win, he would tell people about it. There's enough scary stories about Hannans but nothing much about how people can help.

It's almost like he didn't want people to help. I wonder—

"So you're off to Hartley next?" said a voice Seiren had very much hoped to never hear again. She jumped, scrunching the paper into a ball, her heart racing. Her eyes fell on a short man clad in a state mage's cloak, short black hair slicked down, his blue-green eyes studying her instructions.

Rowan Woodbead met her eyes and cleared his throat, looking at the window over her shoulder.

"Nice day out."