The Star 39

In a practice yard, under a beating sun, Orison stood still wet from the bucket of water dumped on him. Being wet and thirsty was faintly miserable. He could only imagine how he'd feel if he couldn't trance to slow his body's usage of resources.

Standing before the manacled young man, the baron was sipping on water from a crystal glass fully displaying the clear, life sustaining substance within. "And how does your resolve for dignity and pride over consideration fair today?"

Casting his voice to sound dryer and more raspy, the young mage said, "Unshaken. The same cannot be said about my faith in your honor. Any wisdom to shed on the method behind this seeming madness?"

The baron said, "Tell me. Do you remember a day like this? Do you remember a day where you stood in hunger and thirst, humbled before an uncaring tormentor?"

"Uncaring, no. I- I do remember being guided by someone. I think it might have been training or maybe preparation of some kind. I could smell nature keenly, a feeling of wind cooled over fresh water, a lake maybe," Orison said, surprised and earnestly following the sensation to a shadowed corner of his consciousness.

The young mage's words and thoughtful expression diverted the baron from whatever script he had planned as he waited patiently for more.

The young mage obliged. "Someone brought me a small cup of water. It- was broth, though. I think the other knew but kept their silence. It was my insistence to be trained. I- I thanked the person who brought it but asked for plain water. If I had taken the broth, the person who was guiding me would have stopped. My lessons would have been over."

As the baron asked small leading questions, Orison remembered details of martial and magical training. There were some environment details from time to time, a few things about strange technologies and other details he knew not to share. But, there were no names or faces, just ghosts and phantom conversations. Eventually, the wild twist of magic the guardian spirit of the spring placed on him disbursed, ending the recollection completely.

A migraine of epic proportion washed over his abused mind. He didn't pass out but wished he could as he writhed on the ground, weak and nauseous but not having anything to disgorge. A woman's voice muttered over him and he fell into a dream-like peaceful state free of physical pain.

He lay like that for some time. All the while someone fussed over him and muttered things to another. He was given some water and a few pieces of broth soaked bread before urged into sleep.

When next he woke, he was in a simple room with a small barred window. Getting to his feet dizzily, he looked out to see he was inside the top floor of a squat tower. He had managed to play out enough subtle tweaks to paint his condition in the most favorable light possible. There was nothing left to do but wait to see how it would turn out.

It took most of that day before he was seen again. The healer was a plain but kind woman. She wasn't too shabby at her job either. She was able to find the traces of the genius loci's fey magic and identify it, which went a long way towards softening the baron's position towards Orison.

Carefully and with an eye on magic protections, Orison spied on the visit between the healer and the baron. The man's study did have some wards but he found that he could hear as long as he kept his view point from beyond the small window outside it. Considering passing guards, he missed bits but felt like he heard the parts he was interested in.

She said. "My lord, it is quite possible that his youth may be lost to him for a year and a day or for all time. The fey employ wild sentiments into their works. Such things do not readily make for easy observation and treatment... Lost recollections not withstanding, he is in excellent form and health.

"It is obvious he has received proper nourishment and great care in martial instruction from an early age. Whether in speech, disposition or lack of the marks of commoner hardships, he appears to be of noble stock. If not, then a wealthy family has spared no expense on paving this young man's future."

The baron asked, "What of inner qualities?"

A moment of silence elapsed before she said, "He's something special. My lord, I believe that the fey took him with design. There are depths within depths that I dared not explore. The surface is peaceful but beneath is fathomless and dangerous to challenge. So, I would say, is his future. Should he prove to be an unclaimed fosterling, ta-"

He had to withdraw. The guards who patrolled were chosen for their sensitivity and one of the pair had briefly turned towards Orison's scrying point. He couldn't risk that being uncovered. It was useful but only for as long as it remained a secret.

Near evening, the baron visited him. "On the healer's recommendation, I have decided to humor your status of little lost scion. If I have your word to not flee like a thief in the night, I will award you guest rights. Should none come to claim you within the season, we can settle debts between us at that time."

The young mage said, "I won't speak on the institution of honorable hostage holding but I won't swallow a personal debt without a fight. Will you give me word that if I make myself of use to your house that I'll be fairly compensated? Reward or ransom aside, of course."

The baron frowned. "I'll not bicker over coppers with you. Either you are a burden or you're not. Either you show gratitude and have a place at our table or you don't. If that is clear, then know another cruel fact of your current predicament. You are not a noble until proven so. You are not due courtesy and you are not protected by our law and code.

"Humoring the possibility of your station is not the same as you actually having one. You are a commoner and will show the diligence of one for as long as you reside here except for the indulgences you are allowed. Are any of my words unclear to you?"

The young mage gave a saintly smile, "Yes. I'm to be treated like a cur or kept pet at whim but you are expecting to be rewarded as if you treated me as a person of station should I prove to be one. Recognize me or don't. Take the gamble or release me but don't play to your favor above and below the table like a base charlatan. I will not play along."

The man laughed without an ounce of humor in his steely blue eyes, "You speak as if you have the ability to negotiate with me. You don't."

"And I'm not. Either you acknowledge and follow the rules or I won't," Orison said.

"I acknowledge that you certainly have enough pride. But, pride without wisdom is fatal... Place him back in manacles and lock him in a cell," the baron said with barely suppressed rage.

With a weary sigh, the young mage ghosted and fell to the base of the tower, landing softly as he phased fully back into the material plane. With casual ease, he walked out, grimoire and staff floating close at hand. Floating back up to just out of easy bow reach, he sat on the projection of his bookmark and waited.

After a moment's shock, the baron responded with threats and then shows of force as Orison sat there, peacefully blocking what could reach him without retaliating. "I can be merciful because I have the strength to be. The moment you prove me wrong, I'll show you what a fatal lack of wisdom is, baron. If that is clear, then know another cruel fact of your current predicament.

"YOU are the one being humored because I want to know if anyone knows me. If I am given due courtesy, YOU are the one who will receive the protection of its law and code. I do not need it's shield to protect me from you. But, I am not under the misguided notion that I am the strongest in the land. Nor do I desire to see harm come to the innocent.

"I was raised to believe that the strong have an obligation to protect the weak. Or, at the very least, not to add to their misfortune. Is there enough noble virtue in you to support that most basic of requirements for deserving the trust of those under your stewardship?"

Face growing darker by the moment, the baron growled, "Then come down here and discuss it with me in person, not a floating coward."

The young mage chuckled. "Discarding the worthless actions of your subordinates trying to set up a barrier that will fail, I'd prefer to wait for the master of the one who was spying out this situation. My patience was used up after being chained to a wall and deprived of food and water for two days without explanation or reason. Now, it is over drafted."

A man's voice spoke behind Orison, "Then your wait is ended. What do you wish to discuss?... Stand down baron. This has grown beyond your capabilities to handle."

He knew the man had been hiding there under bent light for the last minute or so. It was the reason he chose to get wordy.

"Yes your excellency," the baron intoned through gritted teeth.

Bowing, the minor noble escorted his subordinates away.

With a faint smile, the young mage turned to the count and said, "Perhaps it is a baseless fear but I've seen nothing to discount it. Is the baron a man petty enough to take his frustrations out on a kind old woman and her two grandchildren? I tolerated his attentions fairly much off the back of not wanting to see a generous soul suffer for the loose association of merely providing a stranger succor in their hour of need."

"It is a baseless fear. Baron Woodruff has a sterling reputation among his people... No addressing of due honor and station?" the green robed man said as he floated just as effortlessly on a large open book, staff sized calligraphy brush in hand.

The young mage gave a saintly smile. "Is your excellency willing to at least humor that I might be a subject of his kingdom and not a mongrel or spy that needs to be chained, starved and treated like a criminal for the offense of forgetting who I am?"

The man laughed a little too brightly to be true mirth but lacked any trace of hostility. "With as many houses interested in the fate and fortune of a mystery boy from the wild wood as there are, if you weren't before, you'll soon have the opportunity to earn a place in it somewhere. That is, assuming you want one?"

"No man is an island, your excellency," Orison said as he stood and bowed in imitation of the stance that the baron used moments before.

From within the shadows of the green hood an eye glowed faint emerald radiance. "Since you have the ability, mind if we skip formal travel for the sake of expedience?"

From his bow, the young mage offered an open handed gesture to the open air before them. "At your pleasure."

***

It was a boring month. For being gilded, Count Montreve's estate was no less a cage. The man's motivation for taking him in was fairly clear as well. The count was nearly broke. Playing up the value of Orison's circus sideshow entertainment, his excellency earned quite a pile of resources to help the poor orphan find his home.

The young mage didn't mind playing along. If he couldn't earn a place for himself worth having in the dark, achieving an idol type status and earning one that way suited him just fine. But all good things come to an end.

Once the novelty started wearing off, with no legitimate family stepping forward, it was time to close the show. Count Montreve threw a gala. Interested noble houses looking to inject some new talent into their overly thick bloodlines could attend in the hopes of fostering the interesting young mage.

On the surface, it was a charity event meant to drum up a bright future for the 'darling'. Underneath, it was little more than a meat market auction. And being the savvy man for money that he was, Orison wasn't the only 'meat' up for grabs by the time the count was ready to hold the event.

Through channels both discrete and overt, there were quite a few other oddities and talents 'looking for a good home'. A few taboo and restricted items would be finding new homes in backroom deals as well. Gauging the interest and building assets of the coming event, the young mage realized that the nobles of the kingdom had pigeonholed the worthiness of their superiority a bit too long. Titles were held with the esteem of cult fanaticism.

Boxed in their own narrow viewpoint of the world, the middle ground privileged of Rhodonia were lacking in the common sense department. It didn't matter. They primarily existed to be a cushion and hate soak between the archduke houses and the commoners anyway. More importantly, the jaded and 'safe thrill' seeking bourgeoisie, were destined to be Orison's easily manipulated and deserving play things for an evening.

With an inward cringe, the young mage made a polite retreat from conversation with an aging widowed daughter of the previous king in the process of 'adopting' a gelded minotaur from the Thray-Shin Islands. As he prepared for his 'final show' before he'd silently be auctioned off, he thought about what he'd discovered about himself and his reason for being there. The carefully planned veil fiber based avatar's route to that moment was a way to divest himself safely of essence heavily marked by a manipulative and controlling tier eight who could call 'ownership' of it.

But, the 'stuff' was too valuable to just throw away. He wanted to 'trade it in' for best value. With the help of the assumed spirit of the Veil Cradle, he had a way. And, one 'lucky' dark and heavy soul individual that evening was going to help him make that happen. It wasn't just for him, though. One, maybe more, of his tag-along trio was going to be a part of this event as well.

Taking his place on center 'stage', Orison said, "Thank all of you kind and altruistic souls for your interest in my well being after the arduous journey of finding my family has met with failure. As a more substantial form of gratitude, I have saved prepared magics twisted from my time among the less-human that will be discharged for your enjoyment.

Raising a toast to the aged princess openly pawing her drug and surgery addled minotaur, he continued, "For safety's sake, all minors will be temporarily ushered to other entertainments and the generous Duchess of Galante's provided amanuensis team shall invoke the heavenly laws regarding free will and sacrificial exchange. Revel without worry that another may take advantage, lest they find themselves being taken advantage of by you!"

Duchess Galante shouted, sounding a little inebriated already, "This best prove to be as entertaining as promoted or I shall personally hold you accountable, foundling!"

The young mage bowed deeply to the aging princess to hide the look of revulsion on his face. Were it possible for a soul to demonize a body before death, the woman would have to flee human lands for the abyss on the spot. Pursuits of eternal youth and perverse desires had personally stained her hands with the death and misery of thousands, hundreds of times more through indirect routes over her long life.

With a few more suspenseful words of buildup ruined by Duchess Galante's sharp words to end delays, the young mage opened his grimoire to the last quarter of the book. Within was a twenty-four page spell. His outsider self had taken up a crusade-like whim to create a 'best party ever' spell. Under normal circumstances, it would have been suicide to use it or be a part of it but several days of tweaking and the sacred astronomer group's 'rule' magic turned the spell's purpose into something much more useful and meaningful.

With a sigh that it could only be used once and zero possibility of gaining any safe inspiration from it, Orison unleashed its horrifying and awe inspiring power by chanting the 'key' from the twenty-fifth page. "Ee-Bee-Zuh."

Law and chaos fought against each other to unravel him yet ensure he could be 'a hero, just for one day', 'fancy' and 'bullet proof'. When it was time to do the 'time warp again', law briefly lost against chaos long enough for Orison to become a 'baby, baby, baby' and no longer karmically responsible through the 'power of love'. After all, sometimes one has to fight for the right to party.