Nicholas’ head hurts. He blinks open his eyes, wincing as the bright light pierces his eyes. He hears a murmur and the light dims enough so that it doesn't feel like needles in his brain. Within a few moments, his view resolves into the ceiling of his healer’s workroom – he’s familiar enough with the cracks and carvings in it from multiple boyhood injuries. And a good few adult injuries too. He wonders for a moment why he’s here before the memories come crashing back in.

  He remembers being at the centre of the ritual to hold the Gateways and Pathway for the candidate. Since there was no anchor on the other side, it had all rested on his shoulders to maintain the stability of the shortcut. The fact that it was an inter-dimensional Pathway just made it even more draining.

  And then it lasted what felt like forever. The candidate must have managed to accumulate significantly more Energy than he had needed to trigger the opening of the Gateway since Nicholas’ own reserves weren’t pulled on more than he had expected. But the very act of holding the Gateway and Pathway in place for the candidate and his assorted menagerie to come through had been far greater than he had anticipated. He doesn’t even remember what came through the portal with the candidate, only that it was many more beasts than he was expecting – all his concentration had to be on maintaining the stability of the ritual. If he’d allowed it to waver even for a moment….

  “How are you feeling?” the voice of his healer murmurs quietly, considerate of the headache Nicholas has.

  “My head hurts, and every muscle in my body aches,” Nicholas admits, “but otherwise I am well, I believe.” Better than perhaps he should have expected. He’d opened a Pathway to a world in a different dimension – being a little tired and achy seems like a small price to pay for that. Especially when, despite his confident words to Sarran, the possibility of one of the creatures between worlds finding them was not zero. And indeed, the likelihood of it happening increased the longer he held the portal open, not that he will tell anyone that. But until he saw the candidate himself arrive, he could not risk releasing the ritual for fear that all his effort and investment would come to naught.

  “And what do you remember last?” Jerry questions delicately. Nicholas supposes that memory loss isn’t an unreasonable possibility.

  “Everything up until I collapsed,” he answers dismissively. Only Sarran knows exactly what happened in the hall, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. He can explain the candidate’s sudden presence as a long-distance visitor coming through a sanctioned portal, unusual as that is for anything but a dire emergency. There may be some questions as to why he opened it in the Great Hall rather than the room dedicated to spatial transportation, but it’s not so unbelievable that there will be more than just questions, especially if the number of beasts that came through is as Nicholas vaguely remembers it being – their spatial transportation room would struggle to hold that many. And his staff are loyal and know not to be too curious. He will have to prepare the candidate for what to say when they leave the estate, though.

  Nicholas starts moving carefully, trying to push himself upright. He feels a sudden need to meet the candidate. If the man refuses to help, if he’s not the right person for the task despite the oracle indicating that he most likely will be…Nicholas doesn’t know what he will do. Concede? Throw his House’s support behind one of the Houses who would be more likely to continue to support his House if they win than try to destroy him? Take his House and emigrate away from Moriax or even Iseria entirely?

  He moves a little too fast and lets out a brief grunt of pain as the ache abruptly intensifies.

  “You must take it easy, my lord,” his healer admonishes him. “You have sorely taxed your magic and your body both and you have only been unconscious for a couple of bells. You are not as young as you used to be. Your body knows that. Take a little time to let it recover and you will recover quicker than if you rush about like a gambolling mila.”

  Nicholas lets Jerry’s admonishments go over his head – it’s the same thing his healer has told him after every injury, only recently Jerry has been bringing his age into it. As if the healer hadn’t already been decades into his adulthood when Nicholas was still a child!

  Of course, Nicholas knows that the real problem isn’t his age – Jerry is being kind enough not to speak of the real cause of his increasing frailty. It’s only so much time before his affliction will become obvious. For now, he can still behave as if nothing is wrong, as long as he is not injured, of course.

  “Do I have any lasting injuries?” he asks his healer directly. The white-haired man purses his wrinkled mouth.

  “Not…so to speak. I would advise against casting any magic for a few days – your reserves have been thoroughly depleted and even once they replenish, you would do well to let them settle a little. Though in an emergency, as long as you do not do any working which is too strenuous, you should be fine to cast a little. Your aches and head pain should ease within a few hours, or I can give you a potion to relieve them for you.” He sounds disapproving – Nicholas knows what he thinks of relieving aches. Jerry is very much of the view that aches are there as a warning and that by removing the warning, one is more likely to overextend oneself than if the aches remain in place. “So no, you have not done yourself any lasting harm with this last escapade. Though it has not done your…condition any good either,” he warns. Nicholas restrains a grimace – that’s not unexpected, but it is a little worrying nonetheless. He once more feels the need to meet the candidate now.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The sound of the door opening draws both of their gazes to the door. It opens silently to reveal Nicholas’ manservant. Sarran’s eyes go directly to Nicholas, the relief in them plain to see.

  “My lord,” Sarran says with a bow. Nicholas’ eyebrows go up – that gesture alone reveals Sarran’s state of mind. He doesn’t usually fall back on formality outside the presence of guests except when he’s deeply concerned or highly conflicted. “You’re awake.” Then as if realising that he’s completely ignored the other person in the room, he looks at Jerry. “Healer Jermaine. It is good to see our lord well.”

  “Well enough,” Jerry replies grimly. “Though he should not repeat whatever tomfoolery it was that brought him to me in the first place.” He accompanies the instruction with a fiery look levied at Nicholas. The lord sighs and struggles not to roll his eyes. He swears that Jerry sometimes seems to think that he gets himself injured on purpose.

  He looks at Sarran. “Tell me what happened after I collapsed.”

  Sarran opens his mouth, then pauses, shooting a glance at the healer. Nicholas follows his gaze and raises his eyebrow at Jerry. The healer eyes him and then grumbles inaudibly under his breath and goes into his office, closing the door with almost enough force for it to almost be considered a slam.

  With others, Nicholas might be concerned that they would listen in at the door – without his magic, he has no way of ensuring that they are unheard. But the healer understands the importance of confidentiality so Nicholas isn’t too worried. And even if he does hear, Jerry has proven through the decades that he is loyal to the House – Nicholas is just being careful.

  “Go on, then,” Nicholas prompts. His eyes scan over Sarran searchingly. There are no signs of injuries, no indications of a fight. And his manservant is still wearing the same clothes as earlier so he couldn’t have just changed soiled garments. Those are good indications that things are not as bad as Nicholas feared they might be.

  “The candidate reacted immediately when you collapsed,” Sarran starts. “He reached out to catch you and then laid you carefully on the ground. He did not seem to care much about the sword I was holding at the ready, but took care to move in a way which wouldn’t offer threat. He…” Sarran hesitates. “My lord, did you realise that we would be unable to communicate with the candidate?”

  Nicholas is startled. “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “The candidate is unable to understand our words, nor could I understand his.”

  Nicholas’ eyebrows rise up his forehead. “I…no. I was not expecting that,” he admits, his thoughts racing. He had used a ritual which the Oracle had directed him to for the initial contact with the candidate – one much less strenuous than the one which he had just completed, though costly in its own way. That ritual was used twice: first to send an apparition of himself, then to send his letter. He had had no difficulties in communication then. Was that something intrinsic to the ritual which the Oracle had not thought he ought to be informed about? Something which he had failed to incorporate into the second ritual?

  Regardless, it should not be something too difficult to solve. He is pretty sure that he has a few universal language stones in his family’s treasury. Though, is it certain that the stones will work as intended? Usually they are used for Moriaxar who already speak standard Moriaxan to learn the other languages of the continent, not to learn all the languages at once.

  Nicholas decides that it’s probably worth a try. If they have to start from nothing and teach the candidate the normal way, even with potions improving retention, physical adaptation, and mental flexibility, it will take a good portion of the time they have, time that would be better spent on other preparations. It’s not that long before the king’s task will officially start, after all. And they are already behind other candidates. He can only hope that the candidate has used his time in the other world well – and that he is the right person for the job to begin with. And willing to do it.

  “How did you communicate? Is the candidate still in the Great Hall?” Nicholas asks. It has only been a couple of bells according to Jerry, but that is plenty of time for catastrophe to happen, especially when the situation involves a candidate who is unable to understand any explanations or requests to stay put.

  “No, he is not. He expressed a desire to be in more natural surroundings. He indicated that his Bonded were uncomfortable inside. Considering how many clearly powerful beasts he has, I deemed it important to accommodate him. They are now in the wild garden.”

  The wild garden. Not all that wild for someone who has genuinely been in the wild, Nicholas thinks, but most likely the best option. The woodland would have been another possibility, but he can understand why Sarran wouldn’t have chosen that – the wild garden is contained, limited. The woodland is much larger and therefore easier to lose their new…guests within. Additionally, it’s much easier to control who goes into the gardens than into the woodland – Nicholas doesn’t doubt that Sarran has given strict instructions among the servants that none are to visit that section of the gardens for now.

  The woodlands are visited – with or without permission – by hunters and foragers from both the manor and the local village. Nicholas doesn't like to consider how easy it would be to spark an incident in those conditions. But he does agree with moving the group if the candidate’s Bonded were uncomfortable, for multiple reasons.

  “You made the right choice,” he tells Sarran, then narrows his eyes. “But don’t think I didn’t notice both how you avoided my question about how you communicated with the candidate and how you seem to have information which would be difficult to communicate without words.”

  Sarran looks shifty. Nicholas crosses his arms and gazes at his manservant with something that’s almost a glare.

  Finally, Sarran breaks and gives a sigh. “He used Dominate on me,” he admits.

  here!

  here!

  here!

  here