The essays in the tome were not as helpful as I'd have liked. Since most of the subject matter was strictly illegal, the writings were limited to framing the subject as hypothetical. It was my belief, from some of the writings, that a few of the authors had taken things beyond theory into practice, but it didn't necessarily help me as a reader.
Anyone willing to delve the dark arts as a purely academic inquiry would tread lightly with their writings so as not to reveal themselves as law-breakers, and anyone actually interested in using these spells wouldn't be writing in such a jounal in the first place. But a few of the essays did cite as references some actual writings recovered from arrested dark mages. Those were most informative.
After at least an hour of reading various theories and accounts of lethal magics, I began to scribble down some crude designs for something that could be brewed into a potion to serve as a poison.
I actually found the process very interesting. It was new and refreshing, not more of the same old thing that made up the bulk of my day to day work in the castle. Ironically, studying **** made me feel more alive than I had in months.
Once I felt I had a decent handle on the spell I would be using, I took a break from the poison and looked over the rest of my new master's tasks. After the lethal poison, there was a line that read simply, "mephit" I had no idea what that meant, and there were no references to it in the book. With no way to proceed, I skipped it.
The rest of the items were actually relatively easy. Simple spells imbued into consumable items the Hero could use in place of his own magic. Most of them were simple, common magic. It puzzled me for a moment that he'd felt the need to use such coercive and secretive methods to acquire such innocent seeming items, but I knew he was no fool. He must want to keep his knowledge of magic and vast personal mana a secret. That was the only explanation that made sense to me.
I prepared the items for him, finding some pleasure even in the simple work as it allowed me to work with mana. He'd trusted me with a secret. Could I use it against him? No, I decided. It was a small thing, and he still held all the cards.
Further down the list, the items became less harmless. He wanted an assortment of items and spells he could use to spy on the castle and to coerce people. Knowing what I knew about him, I could easily imagine how some of them could be used to press an innocent woman into a compromising situation with a little imagination.
After a momentary pause to consider my culpability in what would definitely become some poor woman's ****, I prepared the workspace needed to give him what he wanted. It felt wrong, but some dark part of me enjoyed it anyway. I imagined who my master would choose as his prey, and how a scene between them might play out. By the time the small pile of spells were finished, I had worked myself into a state of arousal that demanded my attention.
Was I really going to sully myself for something as base as this fantasy? My fingers twitched as I considered how easy it would be to just surrender to the lust. It would be quick. No, I **** myself to stand from my workspace and pace the room. I still had my pride, I reminded myself. Not my body or my soul, just my pride.
There was a knock at the door. To my great shame I actually hoped it was the Hero come to **** me again, to save me from my struggles and decide for me. But it was just a messenger sent to summon me to the funeral. Was it evening already? "Yes, I will go there now. Thank you."
Maybe the Hero would be at the funeral, I blushed. I told myself I was only interested in updating him on my progress so I could be set free to do magic again, but my burning loins disagreed.
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