“Did you hear about Kathryn?” Alex plopped down in a chair across from Damien. The main “chapel” in the Tower of Balance resembled a reading room more than a church, with stained glass filtering the light illuminating long tables rather than pews. Weekdays were quiet, with only clerics, staff, and the particularly devout working inside.
“Yeah? Everyone has by now. It's terrible,” Damien said. He barely looked up from his work.
“No, not the stagecoach crash. The superiors decided to offer her spirit the opportunity to return.”
“Oh.” Damien looked up, suddenly understanding. “Oh.”
“It's incredible how the... Hmmm, there is no polite way of saying this: how the utter carnage that occurs when one tumbles down a cliff in a carriage, in the rain, and then isn't found for a week makes a 500gp spell suddenly require 25,000gp.”
Damien looked around, nervous that others might take offense to his friend's bluntness. “I can't think of anyone more deserving than Kathryn. She's been going on that route for, what? 15 years now? There's no telling how many lives she's saved.”
“Yes, yes, at the meeting they spoke on and on about how delivering healing spell scrolls and teaching a base level of arcane adeptness saved hundreds of lives in rural areas around the city. But that's not the crazy part. Once they decided to offer True Resurrection, they held a ritual to commune with her spirit.” Alex paused, eager to tell the rest of the tale.
“Well?”
“Get this: she refused the offer! Said she was doing even more important work in the afterlife and to spend the money to send others in her stead.”
“Huh. Well, I suppose she didn't have much family left, after her sister died.”
Alex huffed. “Neither do I, but I'd sure as the hells come back if offered.”
Damien hushed him. “You know foul language upsets the cleric superior.”
“Yeah, that's why I said it so loud,” Alex whispered back with a smile. Damien rolled his eyes. Alex continued: “Seriously, she wasn't even that old. If I died, I'd want to come back. Especially since you'd still be around.” He nudged Damien's arm.
“Me?”
“Yeah, we both know I'm dying first.”
Damien frowned.
“What? Don't look sad about it. We'll be doing paperwork in the afterlife once you finally kick the bucket.” Alex chuckled. “Would you come back? Especially after a freak accident like that?”
Damien looked back down and thought about it. At this point, the peace and quiet sounded kind of nice...
“Hey, are you ok? You're taking too long to answer. That's not a good answer.”
“Hmmm, I'd come back... Maybe... It would depend.”
It was obvious Alex didn't believe his half-hearted lie. But he let the matter drop regardless. It's not like either of them were going to pass anytime soon.
❖❖❖
Damien struggled to unlock the door with his shaking hands. It creaked as he pushed it inwards and he shuffled inside, Jacqueline closing and locking the door behind her. He started a fire as she made two cups of tea. Finally they settled on the couch, exhausted, barely cleaned up from the fighting, and pensive.
It reminded him of the first time they sat together like this. Though at that time, they sat across from each other as barely more than strangers. Now they sat together, his arm around her and her head leaned against him. The tea sat on the table, barely drank, with swirling steam slowly dissipating its heat. They watched the fire in silence for what felt like an eternity before falling into a fitful sleep.
The day's meeting left Damien exhausted. He slowly stood up and found Jacqueline, who wrapped an arm around his waist.
“So, Chancellor, huh?” She whispered.
Damien huffed in response. “Let's get out of here before there's another surprise party.” He felt the weight of what he’d done twisting like a knot in his stomach.
As they left the building, he felt his pulse quicken. Maybe the knot in his stomach wasn’t purely from stress. Was he getting sick?
Suddenly, he realized they were about halfway home. Jacqueline was telling him something, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying through the ringing in his ears. Something clicked in his mind as his vision started to fade and tingling crept into his hands and feet. He stopped, holding onto Jacqueline’s arm, then unceremoniously slumped to the ground.
“Damien? Are you alright, dear?” Jacqueline’s worried voice broke through as the ringing faded. She leaned down to check on him.
He tried to wave her back. He needed air. His senses returned a moment later, though now he was even more exhausted than before.
“I suddenly felt faint. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He leaned his head forward to his knees, trying to regain his strength.
“I’m still worried. Should I send for someone?”
“No, no. I just need to sit for a moment.” He could feel the spell passing, whatever it was.
Jacqueline sat beside him on the empty pathway and placed a hand on his back. Was he a burden to her? He desperately wanted to be able to comfort her in kind, but he always felt so lost on what to do and say. He appreciated that she usually told him what she wanted, but at the same time... well, she rarely had to ask Damien.
He leaned back once he felt able to stand again. He started to get up.
“Are you sure you can make it the rest of the way back?” Jacqueline asked, helping him to his feet.
“Yes. I must be getting a fever or something.”
Jacqueline put a hand to his forehead and frowned. “You don’t feel warm.”
He shrugged. “Let’s just get back, yes?”
They finished the walk back, Jacqueline’s arm feeling more like a support than embrace. Damien was instructed to lay down on the sofa as Jacqueline fetched some fruit, crackers, and a half eaten block of cheese from the kitchen. She laid the snacks on the table in front of the sofa, left, then returned again with a glass of wine for herself and tea for Damien.
“I’m proud of you,” Jacqueline said softly.
“For what?”
“Taking the position.”
Damien shifted. “I still see it as a sort of interim thing. I don’t intend to stay chancellor for the full term.”
“Still, you know it’s a possibility. And you accepted it.”
“...Yeah, I did.” He sighed. “Thank you.”
They were quiet for a few moments as they picked at the food. Neither one of them had much of an appetite. Damien glanced towards her, thinking back to Constance’s words earlier, considering how to at least try to help.
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” He asked, cautious. The frown in her response made him divert his gaze, afraid he had pushed too soon.
“Not really,” she said.
“Yeah, neither do I.”
The moment of silence that followed was sharp as a knife yet thick. Jacqueline sighed, dissipating it like a breeze clearing morning fog.
“It was awful. I’ve never been in a battle before. I mean, when the war was going on, I heard stories. I saw the wreckage after my home was destroyed. But that was all aftermath of the main event.
“Even though everyone had orders and everything was planned... It was chaos.” Her eyes started to water, and Damien wrapped his arms around her. “I wanted to help, and I did, but I wanted to help immediately. I could cast a spell to heal in a moment, but I knew I would exhaust myself before even an hour. At some point, I just shut down and did as I was told. Is that what the orders are for? Is that how people are able to do such terrible things in war?” Her voice wavered at the end, tears finally falling. Damien held her, feeling her shaky breaths against his chest. His own eyes began to sting.
He ran a hand through her hair. “That’s terrible... I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I want to help, but there’s no way for me to know what you went through... not really... I don’t know what to say...”
“You’re helping right now.” She sniffled. Damien pulled her close, letting the embrace be enough.
After a while she pulled back, looking Damien in the eyes. “And what about you? Kieran said you died, and you seemed so distraught yesterday...” She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it back to reveal the scar across his chest. Jacqueline ran her fingers lightly across it, causing Damien to flinch. “And you came back with this, then almost fainted today... What happened to you?”
He opened his mouth to speak but stumbled through his thoughts. Did he even know what happened?
“I’m not entirely sure. I used a spell scroll, but couldn’t keep concentration... As I tried to reorient myself, Medivh struck me with his hand. It.. It went right through me... I could feel the finality of it. And then when I awoke, Mystra wasn’t there. No one I’d expected to come in her stead was there... It was Constance.”
“Constance? Are you sure?” Jacqueline looked confused and worried.
“Well... I had prayed earlier. Asked for Medivh to be cut off from the Weave. Asked why The Lady had let him continue in this for so long... And there was nothing... Now I’m sure it must have been this plane interfering with her influence, or perhaps a test, but in my frustration I called out to the daughter and all but demanded for her to do better.
“She claimed to have influenced the events that stripped Medivh of his arcane abilities. But I could see out of whatever in-between place we were in. Ophelia used the chronometer... I’m not sure what Constance meant, or if she was just manipulating me. She offered to send me back, and, well... Here I am, I guess.” He took a deep breath.
Jacqueline stayed silent, still resting on his chest.
“I asked her plainly. Jacqueline, she says she wasn’t involved with the attack on your home. She said she tried to talk Tarrosh down.”
“Do you believe her?” Jacqueline asked.
“I... I’m not sure. I still don’t trust her, but I think she was telling the truth.” He paused. “Do you think I made the right decision?” he whispered.
“Yes, because you’re here, and I’m in your arms.” She said, quiet but firm in her belief. “But why do you ask? Do you feel otherwise?”
“At the time the answer seemed so clear, but now... looking back... I can’t help but wonder if it was all some sort of test. That if I had refused The Lady would have been on the other side to congratulate me and send me back regardless. And now I fear I’m falling ill and my magic... Oh gods, how could I forget? Jackie, my magic is completely different. When I asked you to revivify Kieran, it’s because I couldn’t.” He started to tear up again. “I can’t cast sending either.”
She pulled back and looked at him curiously. “But you can still cast some spells, yes?”
He nodded. “But even those feel different somehow. More primal. When I cast, it’s the same as before, but I no longer feel Her presence. I feel the Weave, unadulterated, more ancient than gods. Mystra’s embrace was comforting, but this feels... empowering. It’s exciting... but also perverse.” He spat out the last words, almost ashamed at how giddy he felt over the shift in his abilities. The thought of relearning his magic was thrilling in its heresy.
“Perhaps... Perhaps it wasn’t a test, but a gift,” Jacqueline said with a mischievous smile on her face. “Perhaps The Lady saw your devotion and used the situation to grant you powers more suited to your passions.”
He thought about this, and it did ease his mind. But at the same time, if that was the case, why would it be Constance who granted his new source of magic? And why did Mystra still feel so distant?
“I hope you’re right,” Damien said.
Later, in bed, Damien wondered if Jacqueline would approve of his plan to direct the Clocktower to establish an institute dedicated to the study of higher level spells. He would have to ask at a later time. If this was a test from his goddess, he felt he was failing. If this was a gift, he felt he was disgracing it. But he suspected it was neither, and that seemed even more frightening.
The first order of business was ensuring the Bursar, Gregori Gallinari, still had a fully staffed office. It would be rather hard to adjust salaries, stipends, and tuition schemes without someone in charge of the purse strings. Next was the provost... who Medivh nor Mordenkainen had apparently never bothered to appoint.
Why did he accept this position, again?
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a quickly growing headache.
“Mordenkainen, I need you to be interim provost until we can fill the position with an outside hire.”
“Why? We’ve gone without one for the past few years with little issue.”
“Yes, because the chancellor was performing the provost duties. That’s how Medivh filled the university with favorable parties to begin with.”
“I suppose you have a point there...”
“And it’s only temporary. Once we fill the position you’ll be back to your usual duties.” Damien sat with his hands loosely clasped on the desk. Mordenkainen eventually sighed and signed the paperwork needed to accept the temporary position. It felt surreal. He shouldn’t be telling Mordenkainen of people what to do. And yet that’s exactly what he was doing, with no remorse.
Though perhaps there was some small amount of regret.
With the provost situation settled, he could finally breathe again. The daunting task of reevaluating the faculty was now Mordenkainen’s problem. He smiled a bit, wondering if the wizard knew what all he had just signed up for.
Next, Percival walked into the office.
“Percy, come in,” Damien said and rose to greet his friend. The sudden motion made the room swirl around him, and he steadied himself on the desk.
“You alright, man?” Percy said, as genuine and informal as ever.
“Yes, I think I just haven’t fully recovered from the fight.” They embraced and then sat down. Perhaps this was still just the effects from how much blood he lost. How long did it take the body to recover from that? Weeks or more, surely. Maybe he needed to eat more iron rich foods or something.
“Yeah, I heard you took a pretty nasty hit to the chest. I’m sure you’ll be back to normal soon enough. Did you want to talk about something specific or just show off your sick new office?” Percy lounged back and whistled as he examined the plethora of books and artwork in the room, all of it left by previous chancellors. Damien suddenly felt like a trespasser.
“I want to offer you a sort of promotion, actually. Well, it's not actually a higher position than your current one, but I think you may enjoy the role more. Since taking this position, I’m not able to fully manage the student research lab I started... And in addition we need someone to manage and direct the student research taking place under other professors and labs. Percy, you’d be a great fit for the role. Director of Student Research.” He let the title linger.
Percy chewed on his lip. “I don’t know... Sounds like a lot of paperwork and stuff...”
“There would be administrative duties, but primarily you’d be interfacing with the students and gauging how they’re doing. It’s a people job. Plus, it would be less... structured... than teaching classes.”
“You really think I’d be a good fit for this, huh? And trust me enough to take over your lab?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I didn’t.”
Percy thought for a moment. “Sure, I’ll try it. If I hate it, I’ll just quit.” He laughed.
“I can help you with some of the paperwork to start with, as well. Oh, there’s something I was wondering if you could help me with as well.” Damien’s heart quickened. He could trust Percy, but the request still felt thick in his mouth.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Well... It’s about my magic, though I really do not want this to get out until I understand it fully myself. Since the fight, it’s felt less divine and more... innate?” Damien struggled to explain what he felt must be true, though this is exactly why he was asking Percy for help.
Percy leaned back in the chair again and whistled. “So, you really did die, huh? Take some deal like my sister?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Damien said quietly. “But when I came back... Well, I can’t cast half the spells I know I should be able to. But the ones I can cast... I have so much control over them.” He smiled. “It feels heretical, but frankly this is the most excitement I’ve felt while studying the arcane in years.”
“Yeah, so like, can you cast two fireballs? That’s a pretty surefire way of telling if you’re a sorcerer. That’s what you’re trying to say, right?” Percy ripped off the bandaid in one fell swoop.
“Uh, no? I don’t even know fireball, Percy.”
“Ok, but did you try?”
“I... No...”
“And definitely learn fireball, man. It’s awesome.”
“I’ll just... get a scroll or something...” Damien muttered, writing this down. “Wait, couldn’t I just try this with a less dangerous spell?”
“Yeah, but that’s less fun. Fireball. Twin it. Then let’s talk.” Percy got up, slapped Damien on the back, and left the office. Apparently the meeting was over.
Mordenkainen poked his head back through the door.
“I've hired Dr. Remulus as Provost.”
“You did what?” Damiens eyes widened as he tried to process what the wizard had just said.
“Yup. I spent approximately five minutes considering who to hire to get me out of this situation and then five more minutes sending to the man.”
“But he's mad!” Damien didn't know the Raven Society member well, but he'd heard the rumors.
“He's a doctor, a renowned researcher, and meritocratic. I thought you'd appreciate that. Besides, a connection to the Raven Society would be useful for the university.” At this point, Mordenkainen was smugly leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a grin.
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd never had to delegate like this before. The scope of his responsibilities was daunting, and yet decisions like this made him want to personally manage everything. Regardless, Mordenkainen wasn't a total idiot. Usually.
“Fine, yes, I guess I gave you the job. I just didn't expect you to hire the provost within a few hours.”
“Fantastic. Oh, and about salary renegotiations...”
Gods, would the meetings ever end?