The title of Magus was less about magical prowess and more about political positioning within the labyrinthine structure of the Imperial Magisterium.
While the rank certainly required demonstrated competence—specifically achieving master-level proficiency in at least one of the seven fundantal schools of magic—the real qualification was sothing far more nebulous and infinitely more valuable: access.
One could reasonably think of the Magisterium as an exclusive club where the mbership fees were paid in decades of your life, carefully cultivated relationships, and an almost pathological devotion to bureaucratic procedure.
Most mages spent their entire careers playing an elaborate ga of political krozball, jumping from one administrative hoop to the next, collecting stamps of approval from increasingly pompous officials who had themselves spent decades collecting similar stamps from their own pompous superiors.
The average tiline from apprentice to master was five to ten years, assuming you didn't accidentally offend soone important, get caught in a political scandal, or make the mistake of demonstrating too much competence too quickly.
From master to senior positions within the hierarchy, another ten to twenty years of carefully orchestrated brown-nosing and strategic committee mberships. From there to magus, if it happened at all, required both exceptional circumstances and the sort of political backing that most people could only dream about.
Adom had compressed that entire journey into roughly five years, which was rather like completing a marathon by taking a flying broom to the finish line. The flying broom, in this case, was his strategic partnership with Archmage Gaius Emris.
Both regressors shared knowledge that made most political maneuvering seem like children arguing over toys in a sandbox. They knew how the current trajectory would end: the collapse that waited if nothing changed, the darkness that would consu everything n had spent centuries building.
Gaius understood his own limitations in this tiline. Age, established political enemies, the accumulated weight of expectations that ca with actually being in charge of things. He was unlikely to live long enough to see the necessary changes through to completion.
To prepare for the World Dungeon.
Adom represented a different approach. Younger, less encumbered by existing political obligations, and positioned to make moves that Gaius himself could never attempt without triggering approximately seventeen different political crises.
The partnership was born from shared purpose. Gaius provided access to the examinations, training facilities, and political connections that would otherwise have taken decades to acquire. Adom provided the skills and competence to actually capitalize on those opportunities, because access alone ant absolutely nothing without the ability to back it up, and the Magisterium was littered with the careers of well-connected individuals who had discovered this truth rather painfully.
Adom's appointnt to magus rank had co exactly one year ago, making him the youngest person to hold the position in over two centuries. The controversy within Magisterium circles had been imdiate, sustained, and absolutely delicious to observe from the outside.
Senior masters who had been waiting decades for advancent opportunities found themselves passed over in favor of soone who had, according to them, barely figured out how to tie his own boots when they'd started their careers.
The criticism wasn't entirely wrong about the tiline being unprecedented, but it missed the strategic necessity driving the decision. This wasn't about rewarding a promising student, but rather about positioning soone capable of making changes that conventional political processes would never allow, mostly because they were designed specifically to prevent anyone from making changes.
The ten current magi served as more than the Archmage's representatives; they were the pool from which the future Archmage would be selected, assuming they survived long enough and didn't get caught in any scandals involving inappropriate use of magic or unfortunate incidents with summoned creatures.
By fast-tracking Adom's advancent, Gaius was ensuring that soone with the knowledge and determination necessary to prevent catastrophe would be available when succession beca inevitable.
The position of magus carried authority that was primarily political rather than magical.
They could override local magisterium officials, commandeer resources, and make policy decisions that affected thousands of lives. The magical competence was important, but it was the political authority that made the rank significant.
Within this frawork, only three entities could overrule a magus's direct orders within Magisterium matters: the Archmage, the Emperor himself...
... Or another magus.
The figure who had just interrupted Adom's disciplinary action was making a very clear statent about which category he belonged to.
He stepped fully into the showroom, standing tall on his broom as if the enchanted wood were solid ground beneath his feet. His hands were clasped behind his back. A staff floated beside him, spinning slowly in a controlled orbit, while his pointed hat and robes marked him as soone who had invested considerable resources in equipnt designed to enhance magical performance.
"Magus Sylla."
Adom looked up from the struggling officials and smiled. "Magus rlin."
The man on the broom inclined his head slightly. His eyes swept over the scene below: five Magisterium officials pressed flat against the stone floor by what was clearly a gravity enchantnt, their faces various shades of red and purple as they fought for breath.
"Would you mind releasing them?" rlin asked politely. "I believe they'll start dying if this continues much longer."
Adom cancelled the spell with one gesture.
The effect was imdiate. The crushing weight vanished, and all five officials gasped like drowning n suddenly breaking the surface.
rlin observed this with cold detachnt as his broom descended slowly until his feet touched the floor, though he remained standing on the enchanted wood rather than stepping off it. The floating staff continued its lazy orbit around him.
"Well," he said, looking around the room. "I gather things didn't go quite as planned."
Adom glanced toward Filli and the apprentices, who were still pressed against the walls with expressions of barely controlled panic. Tomás had blood dried on his split lip, and there were still fragnts of his broken bracket scattered across the floor near the counter.
"Not particularly, no."
rlin's gaze moved to Klaus Horn, who was still making those small choking sounds while trying to push himself upright. The man's perfectly grood beard was now matted with dust and what appeared to be his own saliva.
"Senior Adept Horn," rlin said conversationally. "I trust you're finding this educational?"
Horn managed to lift his head enough to look at the second magus. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, and his voice ca out as little more than a croak. "Sir... we were... official business..."
"Yes, I'm sure you were." rlin's tone remained perfectly neutral. "Perhaps you'd like to explain to what official business required striking a civilian apprentice?"
Horn's mouth opened and closed several tis, but no sound erged.
Adom stepped forward slightly. "Senior Adept Horn and his team arrived demanding imdiate consultation with Master Kern. When inford that she operates by appointnt only, they beca... insistent. The situation escalated when young Tomás attempted to explain the scheduling system."
"Escalated how?"
"Horn struck him. Then used offensive magic against civilians when I attempted to intervene."
rlin nodded slowly, as if this confird sothing he'd already suspected. He looked directly at Horn, who was now attempting to sit upright with limited success.
"Senior Adept Horn, you are aware that assault of civilians constitutes grounds for imdiate dismissal from the Magisterium?"
Horn's voice was barely audible. "Sir... we had orders..."
"Orders to strike apprentice smiths?"
"No sir, but—"
"Orders to use combat magic in civilian establishnts?"
"Sir, we were told the matter was urgent—"
rlin raised one hand slightly, and Horn's mouth snapped shut. Not magically, the man simply recognized the gesture for what it was.
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"Magus Sylla has already rendered judgnt in this matter," rlin said calmly. "I see no reason to dispute his assessnt. You struck an innocent young man who was doing his job. You used offensive magic without justification. You failed to identify a superior officer and continued to escalate after being given opportunities to de-escalate."
He paused, studying Horn's expression.
"Frankly, I might have simply had you arrested."
Horn looked like he wanted to say sothing, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
rlin stepped down from his broom—finally—and walked over to where Filli and his apprentices were still clustered against the wall. The staff continued floating beside him, maintaining its steady rotation.
"Master Fili," he said, offering a slight bow. "I apologize for this incident. I had sent these n ahead to arrange a consultation while I finished another matter. I clearly should have accompanied them personally."
Fili blinked several tis, apparently still processing the fact that two magi were having a polite conversation in his showroom while five officials groaned on the floor nearby.
"I... that's... you don't need to apologize, sir."
"I'm afraid I do." rlin's expression seed genuinely regretful. "These n were acting under my orders, which makes their conduct partially my responsibility. The fact that they exceeded those orders doesn't absolve of sending them without proper supervision."
He turned to look at Tomás, whose split lip had stopped bleeding but still looked painful.
"Young man, are you seriously injured?"
Tomás touched his lip gingerly. "No sir. Just... just bruised, mostly."
"I see." rlin reached into his robes and withdrew a small crystal vial filled with pale blue liquid. "This should help with the swelling and pain. And please accept my personal guarantee that nothing like this will happen again."
He handed the vial to Tomás, who accepted it with obvious confusion.
"Thank you, sir."
rlin nodded, then turned his attention back to the officials, who were slowly managing to get themselves into sitting positions.
"Gentlen," rlin said, his tone becoming noticeably more formal. "You will return to headquarters imdiately. You will report to Disciplinary Magistrate Helena within the hour, not three days, as Magus Sylla initially allowed, then you will accept whatever punishnt she deems appropriate without appeal or complaint."
Klaus Horn made one last attempt at salvaging the situation. "Sir, if we could just explain—"
"No. You've done quite enough explaining for one day."
Adom watched the magus continue his circuit around the forge, checking on each of the apprentices individually. The man had a way of making people feel heard without actually saying much: a nod here, a quiet question there, making sure no one else had been hurt during the confrontation.
That was Newt rlin for you.
The rlin family tree read like a condensed history of Sundarian magical achievent. They were one of the five founding houses of the empire, which ant their bloodline had been accumulating power, influence, and strategic marriages for over three millennia. Most of the really impressive mages in the imperial records had either been rlins themselves or had married into the family at so point.
Before Adom's appointnt at eighteen, rlin had held the record as the youngest magus ever appointed. He'd been fifty-six at the ti, which wasn't particularly old by magical standards. Human mages averaged around a hundred and fifty years if they didn't do anything spectacularly stupid with experintal spells or political enemies. rlin was sowhere in his sixties now, still decades away from anything resembling old age.
Among the nine other magi currently serving under Archmage Gaius, Adom had ntally sorted them into three categories. Six of them were openly hostile to him. The reasons varied: so believed his rapid advancent was pure nepotism, others thought he was too young and inexperienced for the responsibilities, a few seed personally offended that soone had broken a centuries-old precedent simply by existing.
Then there were the neutral ones. They maintained polite professional distance, neither supportive nor antagonistic. They treated him with the basic courtesy required by rank while making it clear they weren't particularly interested in friendship.
rlin and another called Beth were the only ones who fell into a third category. They'd been actively kind to Adom, which according to Gaius was a very good sign indeed. rlin was also the current favorite for succession when Gaius eventually stepped down.
In Adom's original tiline, he had been among those killed during the assassination of Archmage Gaius. A waste of a decent man and a competent leader, cut down in the political chaos that had preceded the empire's collapse.
rlin finished his conversation with Marina, the stocky apprentice, and walked back toward where the officials were still attempting to organize themselves into sothing resembling dignity. Klaus Horn had managed to get to his feet, though he was swaying slightly and his face was still an unhealthy shade of gray.
"Can you walk?" rlin asked him.
Horn nodded, then imdiately regretted the motion as it seed to make his dizziness worse.
"Good. Then walk. All of you. Back to headquarters now."
The five officials shuffled toward the door like beaten dogs. Horn paused at the threshold and looked back, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say sothing.
Then rlin raised an eyebrow, and Horn's mouth snapped shut as he hurried after his subordinates.
The showroom fell quiet except for the distant sound of hamring from the back forge, where soone had apparently decided that work would continue despite the recent excitent.
"Well," rlin said, turning back to Adom. "That was refreshing. I heard Master Kern has quite the reputation," he glanced around the showroom. "I was hoping to place an order myself, but I understand she's rather particular about scheduling."
"She is," Adom confird. "Worth the wait, though."
"I'm sure." rlin stepped back onto his broom, which rose smoothly until he was hovering at eye level again. "I'll make a proper appointnt next ti. Speaking of which, I'll see you at tomorrow's eting before our new mission assignnts?"
Adom nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."
They shook hands—rlin leaning down from his broom to do so—and then the older magus was gliding toward the door, his staff still orbiting lazily around him.
"Always a pleasure, Adom."
"Likewise, Newt."
The door closed behind him, and the showroom felt suddenly much larger without the presence of two magi and five groaning officials filling it. The apprentices began to relax, returning to their various tasks with the kind of careful normalcy people adopted after witnessing sothing they'd probably be talking about for months.
Adom turned back to Filli, who was standing by the counter looking like he'd forgotten sothing important.
"So," Adom said. "What exactly did you want to show ?"
Filli's eyes widened. "Oh! Right!" He smacked his forehead with his palm. "With all the excitent, I completely—yes, you need to see this. Co with ."
He headed toward the back of the shop, gesturing for Adom to follow. As they walked through the main forge area, past the glowing furnaces and the rhythmic hamring of the other smiths, Filli began talking excitedly.
"So you rember that celestium tal shipnt I received a few months ago from Wangara? Beautiful stuff, but tricky to work with. And I still had so starfallen tal left over from that commission job. Now, the original Wam and Bam are still perfectly functional, don't get wrong, but..."
Adom was listening carefully.
Filli would eventually beco known as Fyre the Great, one of the most innovative talworkers in imperial history. Adom had learned to pay attention when the young man got excited about sothing, because it usually ant he was on the verge of another breakthrough.
"I've been experinting," Filli continued, leading them down a narrow hallway toward his personal workshop. "You know how you keep having to bring Wam and Bam back for repairs? Every ti you use that thunder shrimp attack of yours, the energy discharge damages the enchantnt crystals and runes. The tal itself holds up fine, but the magical components keep burning out."
Adom nodded. It was an ongoing problem. His attacks were powerful, but they tended to be hard on equipnt that wasn't specifically designed to channel that much raw energy.
"Well, I started thinking about that. And then I rembered sothing about how starfallen tal interacts with celestium under certain temperature conditions. There's this fusion process that happens if you get the timing exactly right..."
They reached the workshop door, and Filli paused with his hand on the handle. His eyes were practically glowing with excitent.
"The thing is, I think I've created sothing entirely new. A tal alloy that's never existed before."
He opened the door and ushered Adom inside. The workshop was smaller than the main forge but much more cluttered. Workbenches covered every available surface, loaded with tools, partially completed projects, and what appeared to be several dozen failed experints.
"The problem with your current gauntlets," Filli said, walking over to a covered workbench in the center of the room, "is that they're built for soone with above average human strength and above average magical output. But you're not exactly just above average, are you?"
Adom laughed. "I've been told that once or twice."
"Right. So I designed these for soone who hits like a force of nature and channels mana and Fluid like it's going out of style."
He pulled away the cloth covering the workbench.
The new gauntlets were beautiful. The base tal was a deep silver that seed to shift between mirror-bright and matte depending on the angle of the light. Black accents ran along the knuckles and finger joints in patterns that looked almost organic.
Intricate runes had been etched into the tal, so fine and detailed they must have taken weeks to complete while tiny crystals were embedded at strategic points—on the knuckles, along the wrists, and at the base of each finger—glowing with a soft blue light that pulsed gently like a heartbeat.
"Filli," Adom breathed. "These are incredible."
"Right?" The young man said excitedly. "I nad it Valiant tal, because it sounds heroic, but the alloy can handle magical channeling that would lt ordinary tal," Filli explained, practically bouncing on his toes. "The crystals store excess energy instead of letting it discharge randomly. And the rune work... well, let's just say I've been studying so very old texts."
Adom reached out and activated his identification skill.
[Identify]
The system response appeared in his vision, and his eyes widened.
[Item: Wam and Bam (Class S)]
Type: Enchanted Battle Gauntlets
Properties:
tal Construction: Virtually indestructible under normal combat conditions. Resistant to magical overload and energy discharge.Mana Amplification: Increases magical attack potency by 300%.Energy Storage: Can store up to 10,000 units of excess mana, releasing it on command or during critical strikes.Self-Repair: Minor damage automatically heals over ti using stored mana.Adaptive Resonance: Attunes to wielder's magical signature for optimal performance.
"Fili..." Adom said quietly.
Filli grinned. "I was hoping you'd be pleased."
Adom paused, feeling like he should say sothing profound about the breakthrough, about the innovation, about what this ant for magical tallurgy as a whole. Instead, what ca out was:
"About that na, though. I think you could do better."
Filli blinked. "Right?! Valiant seed cool at first, but it keeps reminding of that mouse friend of yours."
Adom laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking. So, what will you na it?"
Filli fell silent, his brow furrowing in concentration. Adom waited, watching the wheels turn in the young smith's head.
"What about..." Filli said slowly, then stopped. He was quiet for another long mont. "There was this dwarven hero I always admired growing up. Fyre Heart-of-Iron. He lived about eight hundred years ago, and they say he used his fist for hamr, and that he created the weapons that ended the Goblin Wars. He's considered the father of all modern blacksmithing techniques."
Filli's voice grew more animated as he spoke. "The stories say he could forge tals that didn't exist in nature, that he could pull the essence of stars down into his anvil. Most smiths have a little shrine to him in their workshops. I've got one over there." He gestured toward a corner where a small carved figure sat among the tools.
Hah, would you look at that. So things seed to just happen no what tiline, huh? Well, this wasn't a constant that needed changing, so Adom smiled gently.
"Fyre tal..." he repeated. "I like it, feels like it was made for you."
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