Chapter 109: New Team of Wizards

The capital of Eloriath, Eryndral, loomed on the horizon as Alaric Steele approached it, his gaze unwavering and focused. The sprawling city, with its towering spires and bustling streets, symbolized the heart of the kingdom.

The grandeur of the city did little to disguise the tension that lingered in the air, the whisper of danger just beyond the horizon. But Alaric’s purpose was clear. He was here to assist, to offer his magical prowess to the King’s cause, but deep within, his own ambitions smoldered like a quiet fire, just waiting to ignite.

He entered the city gates with little fanfare, his entourage of maids and servants trailing behind him. His presence wasn’t yet a matter of overwhelming importance, despite the royal summons. He was, after all, only a young heir to the Steele Family, not its head. His reputation as a talented mage had spread, but it was his loyalty and strategic importance to the Kingdom that had earned him this summons, not his birthright.

Alaric’s first destination was the royal palace—a sprawling complex nestled atop a hill, its imposing stone walls a testament to the kingdom’s might. He was guided through the opulent corridors, the air thick with the scent of wealth and power. After passing through a series of well-guarded doors, he was ushered into a large chamber where King Thaleon sat at the head of a long oak table, surrounded by several advisors and the leaders of various military branches.

“Alaric Steele,” the King said, his voice deep and commanding as Alaric stepped forward, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

Alaric bowed slightly, keeping his posture respectful but confident. “Your Majesty,” he replied, his voice steady. “I am honored to be of service.”

“Please, take a seat,” the King gestured toward an empty chair at the table, his tone warmer now, though still authoritative. “We have much to discuss.”

As Alaric settled into his chair, the King introduced him to the other individuals in the room—officials and officers who had gathered to strategize against the rising threat of the Phantom Assembly. Each one had a different story, a different skill set, and a different role to play in the defense of the Kingdom.

“You will be working closely with this team of mages,” King Thaleon began. “They have been assigned the crucial task of tracking and monitoring the movements of the Phantom Assembly. They are not soldiers—they do not fight—they gather information, keep their ears to the ground, and track the whispers that might otherwise go unnoticed.”

Alaric’s eyes flicked to the group of mages seated around the table. There were five of them, each with a distinct presence and aura. The first was Drustan, a tall man with wild, dark hair and a heavy cloak that billowed like a shadow around him. His face was gaunt, eyes sharp and calculating, yet there was an almost unsettling calm about him. His robes were adorned with arcane symbols that shifted in the light, suggesting a deep mastery over the magical arts.

“Drustan,” the King introduced, “A former member of the Silver Ravens Guild. His skill in divination is unmatched.”

Drustan gave Alaric a quick nod, his expression unreadable. Alaric could sense the depth of his experience, but there was also something cold about him—perhaps a hint of bitterness. He didn’t ask questions; Drustan’s presence was more a warning than an introduction.

Next was Kaelith, a lithe, young mage with pale skin and silver hair that cascaded around his sharp features like a waterfall of moonlight. His eyes, however, were a vibrant green that almost glowed in the dim light of the room. Kaelith was dressed in a simple robe, though Alaric noted the fine craftsmanship of the stitching and the slight shimmer that came from the fabric itself.

“Kaelith,” the King continued, “Once a member of the Kingdom’s Mage Corps, he’s now a free agent, providing his expertise where it is most needed. His affinity with magical tracking spells will be invaluable.”

Kaelith gave a brief, nodding salute, though his eyes lingered on Alaric for a moment longer than necessary. There was something about the way Kaelith looked at him—perhaps a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Alaric was well used to such looks, especially considering his young age, but he didn’t let it rattle him.

Then there was Rowena, a woman of striking beauty, her auburn hair pulled into a tight braid that hung down her back. Her eyes were a piercing shade of violet, almost unnaturally so, and her smile, though warm, held a certain guardedness. Rowena wore a long, flowing robe embroidered with ancient symbols of knowledge and wisdom, a clear sign of her intellectual prowess.

“Rowena,” the King said, his tone almost fond, “A scholar who once served as a researcher in the Royal Archives. Her expertise in enchantment and ancient texts makes her indispensable. She’s the one who interprets the cryptic messages we sometimes come across.”

Rowena extended a hand toward Alaric, her smile genuine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Steele,” she said, her voice melodic, though tinged with an edge of seriousness.

“Alaric, please,” he corrected, shaking her hand briefly. “I’m not a lord, just an heir.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but she didn’t comment further. Instead, she returned her focus to the King.

“Next,” the King’s voice broke through the quiet exchange, “Petra. One of the Kingdom’s most gifted illusionists.”

Petra was seated to Rowena’s left, her face partly obscured by the hood of her cloak. What little could be seen of her face was angular and sharp, her skin a dark shade of bronze. Alaric could feel her presence, like a constant pulse in the room—subtle yet undeniably powerful.

“Petra,” the King continued, “Was once a member of the Mage Corps as well. She now operates independently, using her skills in illusions to track movements and gather intelligence from the shadows. If there’s one thing the Phantom Assembly fears, it’s being caught off-guard by an illusionist.”

Petra did not greet Alaric directly, instead giving him a measured look as though sizing him up. Her gaze was piercing, as though she could see through any falsehoods or pretensions.

Finally, there was Helena, a tall, elegant woman with purple hair and a serene expression. She wore no robe but instead a form-fitting outfit that allowed for ease of movement, her clothes decorated with the subtle symbols of an enchanter. Her presence was the most tranquil of all, though it exuded a quiet power that spoke of immense skill.

“Helena,” the King introduced, “A rogue mage who specializes in wards and magical protections. Her role in this operation is to protect the team from magical attacks and ensure that no one is tracking them. If there’s a hidden threat, Helena will find it.”

Helena offered a graceful nod, her expression calm but serious. “It’s good to meet you, Alaric Steele. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, her voice smooth and composed.

Alaric smiled politely, his mind already beginning to process the dynamics of the team. They were a diverse group, a mix of backgrounds and skills, united by a single purpose—to track the Phantom Assembly and uncover their secrets.

The King cleared his throat, pulling Alaric’s attention back to him. “These mages are the best we have for this particular task. They are to work alongside you, Alaric. Your role will be to assist them with your expertise in magical detection and to help coordinate their efforts.”

Alaric nodded thoughtfully, a sense of purpose settling over him. This was not just a mission for the Kingdom—it was an opportunity for him to grow, to expand his influence, and to advance the cause of the Steele Family. But more than that, it was a chance to prove himself to the King and, perhaps, to outshine these mages in his own way.

As the meeting drew to a close, King Thaleon leaned forward, his gaze intense. “We are all working toward the same goal, Alaric Steele. But remember—this is not just about tracking down the Phantom Assembly. It is about protecting this Kingdom from an enemy that is as elusive as it is dangerous. Stay sharp. Trust no one.”

With that, the meeting was adjourned.

~~

The grand council chamber of the royal palace was a space of somber authority, but as the meeting adjourned and the advisors dispersed, the atmosphere shifted. The mages tasked with tracking the Phantom Assembly exited together, their formation a loose grouping of personalities that seemed as mismatched as it was intriguing. Alaric Steele found himself at the center of this group, walking alongside them through the ornate corridors of the palace. Sunlight streamed in through tall, arched windows, catching the golden patterns in the mosaics on the walls.

Drustan led the way, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him as if he were a specter rather than a man. He walked with a purposeful stride, his sharp eyes fixed straight ahead, giving off an aura that demanded space. Kaelith trailed slightly behind him, his silver hair glinting in the light as his vibrant green eyes darted around, taking in every detail of their surroundings. His restless energy was palpable, matched only by the occasional side glances he threw at Alaric. They weren’t friendly glances; they were measuring ones.

“Quite the fancy reception,” Kaelith remarked, his tone casual but carrying an edge. “The King must be fond of you to invite you to sit at his table like that, Alaric Steele.”

Alaric kept his composure, offering a polite but disarming smile. “The King invited all of us to his table, Kaelith,” he replied smoothly. “I wouldn’t say I’m special.”

Kaelith raised a brow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Oh, but you are, aren’t you? Magical prodigy. The talk of the Kingdom. The one who sent Eskil of the Lionheart Martial Institute packing. That’s no small feat.”

“It wasn’t about sending anyone packing,” Alaric said lightly. “He attacked my Aunt’s home. I defended it. That’s all.”

Kaelith smirked. “Humble, too. I suppose that’s part of the charm.”

Rowena, walking on Alaric’s other side, chuckled softly. Her violet eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, leave him alone, Kaelith. He’s being modest, and it’s refreshing. Besides, talent like his doesn’t need bragging.”

“Talent,” Kaelith muttered, his smirk turning into something more cynical. “Funny how that word gets thrown around.”

Alaric glanced at Rowena, his smile softening. “Thank you, Rowena,” he said. “But truly, I’ve just been fortunate with my training and mentors.”

Rowena tilted her head, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “And who were your mentors, if I may ask? Your precision with magic is… remarkable. I heard you’ve mastered controlling magical energy to strands as fine as hair. That kind of finesse is rare.”

Kaelith snorted softly, muttering under his breath, “Hair strands. How poetic.”

“Careful, Kaelith,” Rowena teased, casting him a playful glance. “Your jealousy is showing.”

Kaelith shot her a look, his mouth opening as if to retort, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he rolled his eyes and muttered something incoherent before quickening his pace to catch up with Drustan. The diviner hadn’t said a word since they’d left the council chamber. He walked ahead, his presence brooding and enigmatic, as though he were tuning into some unseen frequency.

Petra, meanwhile, was nearly silent, her hood casting a shadow over her face. Her movements were so smooth they were almost unsettling, like a shadow gliding through the light. She occasionally glanced at Alaric, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t speak.

Helena, bringing up the rear, offered a reassuring presence. She caught Alaric’s eye and gave him a small, warm smile. “Don’t mind Kaelith,” she said in a calm, soothing voice. “He’s always like that. A bit of a chip on his shoulder, you know?”

“I noticed,” Alaric replied, his tone wry. “But I can handle it.”

“You seem like you can handle a lot,” Helena remarked, her gaze thoughtful. “You must have some stories to tell, with all that you’ve accomplished at your age.”

“I suppose,” Alaric said with a shrug. “But nothing too extraordinary. Most of my time has been spent studying.”

“That’s what makes it extraordinary,” Rowena chimed in, her tone genuine. “It takes incredible dedication to reach the level you’re at, especially so young. You should be proud.”

Alaric gave a small nod, appreciating her sincerity. It was a sharp contrast to Kaelith’s snide remarks.

Drustan, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the conversation. “Words are wind,” he said without turning around. “They don’t matter. Actions do. Let’s see what you can do when it counts.”

The group fell into a brief silence, the weight of Drustan’s words hanging in the air. Alaric didn’t respond, recognizing that there was no need to. He would let his abilities speak for themselves when the time came.

As they reached the chamber designated for their operations, the group began to disperse, each mage moving to claim a space for their equipment. The room was spacious and well-lit, with high ceilings and several smaller rooms branching off from the main area. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and the faint tang of magical energy, as though the room itself was ready to resonate with their efforts.

Kaelith immediately began unpacking a set of crystal-tipped wands and small, rune-inscribed artifacts, muttering to himself about calibrations. Rowena set up her workspace meticulously, arranging books and scrolls with care. Petra remained enigmatic, her movements fluid as she laid out a series of strange, shimmering fabrics and mirrors that seemed to warp the light around them. Drustan produced a heavy tome and began to study it silently, while Helena placed small wards around the room, her hands glowing faintly as she worked.

Alaric observed them all, noting their unique methods and styles. He chose a spot near the center of the room, unpacking his own tools—a set of finely crafted quills, enchanted inks, and a small but intricate spellcasting focus. He worked quietly, aware of the occasional glances cast his way.

“Interesting setup,” Rowena said, stepping closer to inspect his focus. “I’ve never seen a spellcasting tool quite like that.”

“It’s custom-made,” Alaric replied. “Designed for precision work.”

“Of course it is,” Kaelith muttered from his corner, not looking up. “Because why wouldn’t the prodigy have the best of everything?”

Alaric didn’t rise to the bait, instead turning to Rowena with a small smile. “Would you like to see how it works?”

Rowena’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to.”

Kaelith groaned audibly, throwing up his hands. “Oh, come on, Rowena. Don’t encourage him.”

“I’m encouraging curiosity,” Rowena shot back, her tone sharp. “Something you might want to try, Kaelith.”

Helena laughed softly from her corner. “Careful, Kaelith. You’re starting to sound petty.”

Kaelith grumbled under his breath but didn’t respond further, clearly annoyed but unwilling to press the issue.

As the group settled into their work, the atmosphere in the room began to shift. The initial tension gave way to a tentative sense of camaraderie, though it was clear that some barriers would take time to break. Alaric, for his part, remained calm and composed, his focus on the task at hand.

But even as he worked, he couldn’t help but notice the undercurrents in the room—the jealousy from Kaelith, the curiosity from Rowena, the silent observations from Petra, and the calm support from Helena. It was a complex web of dynamics, and Alaric knew that navigating it would be just as important as the mission itself.

~~

The room was finally settling into a rhythm as the mages began their work, the initial tension giving way to cautious silence. Alaric, however, wasn’t content to let the unspoken distrust linger in the air. If they were to function as a team, even for this singular task, communication was crucial. He finished arranging his tools and leaned back slightly in his chair, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room.

“So,” Alaric began casually, breaking the quiet hum of activity, “I take it this isn’t your first assignment together?”

Kaelith snorted, not even looking up from the crystal he was tuning. “Perceptive, aren’t you?”

Helena shot him a warning glance before responding herself. “No, it’s not. We’ve been working on this for a while now—tracking Phantom Assembly activity across the kingdom.”

Rowena nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s been challenging, to say the least. They’re incredibly elusive.”

Petra, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke, her voice soft but clear. “Elusive is an understatement. They operate like shadows—always a step ahead.”

Drustan, still engrossed in his tome, didn’t so much as glance up. “And for good reason. They’ve been perfecting their methods for years. They’re not the kind of enemy you can just stroll in and confront.”

Alaric tilted his head slightly, studying their reactions. The men were clearly hesitant, their words laced with caution and skepticism. The women, on the other hand, seemed more open, if still guarded.

“Fair enough,” Alaric said, his tone light. “But now that I’m here, I’d like to catch up on what you’ve discovered so far. Hideouts, key members, anything actionable. The King assigned me to this team for a reason, and I’d like to contribute.”

Kaelith rolled his eyes. “Contribute? You’ve been here for all of five minutes. We’ve been at this for weeks.”

Helena frowned, crossing her arms as she turned to Kaelith. “And it’s five minutes too long to keep him in the dark. He’s part of the team now, Kaelith. Whether you like it or not.”

Kaelith opened his mouth to retort, but Rowena cut him off. “She’s right. If the King trusts Alaric, we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Drustan let out a low, almost dismissive grunt. “Trust is earned, not handed out on royal decree.”

“And I’ll earn it,” Alaric interjected smoothly, his gaze steady. “But I can’t do that if I don’t know what we’re working with.”

Petra’s lips curved into a faint smile as she lowered her hood, revealing sharp, striking features. Her voice carried a tone of quiet authority. “He has a point. Besides, withholding information helps no one. The Phantom Assembly won’t wait for us to sort out our differences.”

Helena nodded, her tone firm but kind. “Exactly. Alaric, I’ll fill you in.”

Kaelith groaned, muttering under his breath, but didn’t stop her.

Rowena stood and moved closer to Alaric’s workstation, pulling a roll of parchment from her satchel. She spread it out on the table, revealing a detailed map of the kingdom. Small, colored pins were stuck in various locations, with lines of ink connecting them in an intricate web.

“This is what we’ve pieced together so far,” she began, her violet eyes meeting Alaric’s. “These marks represent areas where we’ve either confirmed or suspected Phantom Assembly activity. Most of them are small—smuggling operations, illicit magical trade, that sort of thing. But here—” she pointed to a cluster of pins near the kingdom’s northern border, “—this is different. There’s something larger at play.”

Alaric leaned forward, studying the map. “The northern border… That’s close to the trade routes, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Petra chimed in. “It’s the perfect location for moving contraband in and out of the kingdom without drawing too much attention. We believe they’ve established a base of operations somewhere in this region.”

Kaelith, despite his earlier reluctance, couldn’t resist adding his own input. “But it’s not just a smuggling hub. There’s evidence of more—ritual activity, strange disappearances. It’s not just about goods; it’s about power.”

Helena tapped a finger on another part of the map, farther south. “And then there’s this. A small village near the Shimmering Woodlands. People have been reporting strange sightings—shadows moving unnaturally, whispers in the air. Classic signs of Phantom Assembly manipulation.”

Alaric absorbed the information, his mind racing. “And you’ve confirmed these as Phantom Assembly operations?”

“Some,” Rowena admitted. “Others are still speculative. But the patterns are consistent with their known methods.”

“And the members?” Alaric pressed. “Do we have names, faces, anything concrete?”

Petra hesitated, glancing at the others before responding. “Only a few. Low-level operatives mostly. They’re incredibly good at staying hidden.”

Alaric’s eyes narrowed as he studied the map again. “So we’re dealing with a decentralized network—fragmented cells operating independently, but with a common purpose.”

“Exactly,” Rowena said, a hint of admiration in her tone. “You catch on quickly.”

Kaelith let out a derisive snort. “Don’t flatter him. He’s not saying anything we don’t already know.”

Helena sighed, shaking her head. “Kaelith, enough. We’re supposed to be working together, remember?”

Alaric ignored Kaelith’s jab, focusing instead on the task at hand. “What about their leadership? Have we identified anyone higher up?”

Drustan finally looked up from his tome, his expression grim. “If we had, we wouldn’t be sitting here. Their leaders are ghosts—names whispered in the dark, nothing more.”

“But we’re getting closer,” Petra added, her voice firm. “Every piece of information we gather brings us one step closer to unraveling their network.”

Alaric nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Then let’s make sure we don’t waste any time. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Rowena gave him a warm smile. “We will, Alaric. And don’t let Kaelith get to you. He’s… difficult, but he’s good at what he does.”

“Understatement of the year,” Helena muttered, earning a smirk from Petra.

Kaelith, for his part, seemed to realize he was outnumbered. He muttered something under his breath and returned to his work, leaving the others to continue the discussion.

As the evening wore on, the group gradually began to relax, the initial tension giving way to a tentative sense of camaraderie. Alaric knew it would take time to earn their full trust, but he was determined to prove himself. The mission was too important for personal grudges to get in the way.

For now, he would focus on the task at hand—piecing together the fragments of information they had and using them to uncover the secrets of the Phantom Assembly.