The Village of Moneo

"So if you take a theoretical reading of the tale of the three mages and the three doors. Thus can the first law of magic be calculated. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, merely transferred. The tale of the young first mage's folly shows us this. When faced with a small issue that couldn't be solved with a small solution, he moved to attempting larger solutions. While the wise old third mage used more efficient solutions. Both broke the lock, but only the older mage had enough strength remaining to slay the dragon, so he was the only one to get the treasure. The second law is in demonstration too here. The process of magical transfer must reach a point of irreversibility before completion. The second mage, when he decided that he would age his door, realized too late that what he intended to do would consume more energy than was in his body, but at that point the rate of transference had reached a point that would have required more energy to stop than to continue. An energy that, by taking the inefficient route, he then lacked. However, the ultimate failure of the third mage to make it home with his gold shows the third law, that there is no truly efficient spell, one can only make a sufficiently efficient spell."

You pause from kicking rocks down the road and wishing he'd shut up. "Wait, how does the story say that at all?"

If it were possible to raise your eyebrows verbally, Ardenne does so. "You would question a child's fable?"

"Yeah, it makes no sense."

He cackles, "A common reaction to the story. Were I still a professor, I would make you study Lytton's teachings as punishment for your smart mouth."

"If people take issue with it so much, the story might be the problem and not the students."

"Astute, but a poor lesson can be just as valuable a learning tool."

"That sounds like an excuse."

"So long as you've learned the three laws, the story has served its purpose."

"If that's the whole point, why not just teach the laws?"

"Spoken as one who has never preached rules to children. With you as their teacher, they would seek power for no reason but to spite the "thou shalt not" that you would instill."

"If the lesson was made for children, why teach me it?"

"Because you come to me as a child to magic."

"Isn't that condescending?"

"Yes, but perhaps that too is a lesson."

"That also sounds like an excuse."

"Bah! I can recite Lytton to you yet! Don't tempt an unsilenceable voice in your own head to see how interminable it can be."

After a moment's pause, he seems to shrug off the previous exchange and starts a new story about a mage outsmarting a group of evil thieves by utilizing the skills that his wise old professor taught him that he'd been smart enough to pay attention to. Subtlely, he adds an extra level of condescension to this one by giving all of the thieves gruff evil voices and delivering their lines like a diva chewing the scenery of a school play. You groan internally, but it seems like annoying you only encourages him. If he's the metric of the teaching at the mage's college, most mages are likely properly insufferable. Fortunately, before he can begin a third section about how the young mage succeeds against adversity because of his dogmatic obedience to his lessons, you crest a hill and a humble little village pops into view on the horizon.

"Ah, Moyanna," He sighs, "A fine little town in its day. From the southern border, we're not more than a day from the college."

You look at the earthy brown smear of it on the horizon. "Is there anything there?"

He chuckles softly, "Gods no, all the villages near the college are little more than resting stops on the path there. It's why so many who attended the college grew to resent it. No matter how nice it may be, it was placed in one of the empire's armpits. The emperor who ordered its construction was as respectful of the impact of magic as he was fearful of it. On my days off, I would travel here sometimes. There was a fine market once, so long as they didn't know you were a mage."

"Do the villagers hate mages?"

"Hate? Not in the stoning sense. Moyanna was between the capital and the college, so it got the most mages in transit from one to the other. They're predatory toward the young ones, think they're naive and tower-isolated enough that they sell everything at a markup. I suppose you have to hate somebody at least a little to take such bold-faced advantage of them."

"Perhaps it would be best to not tell them where I'm going then."

He laughs, "My dear, you are wearing initiate robes. Unless you intend to walk into town naked, they are going to know."

You grimace, "Maybe we should go around then."

"Relax, my dear. Unless the perception of the college has shifted drastically, the worst they will do is overcharge you. Pretty young women especially find an easier time than most. Of course, you could still enter town naked if it would put you at ease."

"Aren't there rules against public nudity?"

"Perhaps, but there is only one way to find out."

You suppress the old man's voice as best you can and start walking again toward the brown smear on the horizon. As it starts to come into view properly, you're both surprised by how much larger it is than it looked and suddenly overwhelmed by how much you've been traveling without rest since the morning.

"Was there an inn here once?"

"Yes, run by a lovely woman with a soft spot for wise old men. They had a wonderful private bath there as well. Sometimes, if I was lucky, she would join me."

"Did you love her?"

"She had hands like a longshoreman and never smiled."

"Is that a no?"

"My dear, someday soon you will learn that sex and love are more cousins than they are sisters."

The town is surrounded at first by a small ring of hip-height stone walls, then a ring of farmland between those and the wooden walls of the town. The entryway is ungated and unguarded, but an ages-old archway with a decaying drawbridge has the slots to imply it could be pulled closed at some point long ago. Considering how well-maintained everything else is, it's odd to see the defenses so poorly maintained. Either the village hasn't had to fear any sort of outside threat for long enough that it no longer even considers it a risk or the threats are so minor that their impact doesn't show.

"I remember ropes. It hasn't been so long that chains have decayed, but it has been some time."

As you walk through the streets to the town center, Ardenne points out all of the shops where he recognizes them or remembers what they used to be. The streets are lively and peaceful. It's exactly what you expect of a little town most notable for being somewhere most will stop in for a night at the longest. All of the nice aspects of it are out in the open, for sale, and not cheap. It's all smiles, but every smile also has something to sell. You see a few other people in robes walking around, usually as soon as one of them buys anything, they're swarmed with other prospective merchants. It's disgusting.

"It's a tourist trap," Ardenne agrees. "If you tell the locals that you're on the way to the college for the first time, they'll usually try to convince you that the school takes all of your money when you arrive and that you're barred from sex and drinking while attending. Every year we got plenty of students in on the first day hungover and penniless."

"Well, are you barred?"

"Only the professors." He says with a tone of great lamentation.

Past the central square where the most bustling markets are, the town starts to slope upward and the houses and shops are built into the foothills of a mountain that looms deceptively close. The streets and houses both become far less polished and nice, but also become far less artificial. Considering the somewhat leery looks you get in this area of town, this definitely feels more like the proper Moyanna. Even farther away, close to the inside of the wooden wall, the houses become more spread out as the ground gets steeper. Eventually, the foothills get steep enough that the wall no longer covers them. It's around this point that a large flat building surrounded by its own tall stone walls starts to dominate your view.

"There it is, those walls were wooden last time I was here. They've moved up in the world."

For how fancy the inside is, it's also absolutely dead. Granted, it is still late afternoon. The entry room is wide and open, showing several areas for lounging. A bored-looking young man is sitting behind the counter flicking through a tome that's definitely older than he is and potentially older than this place is. When he sees you, he perks up and tries to smooth himself and be presentable before clearing his throat and addressing you.

"O-oh! Hello! Are you headed to the college?"

He seems completely unassuming, he's also kinda cute.

"And he thinks you're cute too. If you play it right, he'll probably give you a substantial discount." Ardenne chimes.

"I should get there tomorrow, do you have any rooms for tonight?" You ask with a slight smile.

He frowns, "I'm afraid the road is closed for the foreseeable future, if that means you need to change plans, I can give you a free room for tonight."

Ardenne muses, "Well, that was easier than expected. But the road being closed between Moyanna and the college for even an hour is unheard of."

"Why is the road closed?"

He shrugs, "There was a landslide of some sort, when the guilds went to clear it they found it was something to do with the college. Every time they go to clear it, it comes back bigger."

"I-" Ardenne starts, but his voice catches in his throat. "This is.. unprecedented. He seems unconcerned, but this would be extremely bad for both Moyanna and the College."

"Seems like it would be in Moyanna's and the College's best interests to clear it."

His face scrunches in confusion. "Moyanna, is that the name of one of the mages?"

"Is that not the name of this town?"

He pauses, then reaches under the counter and pulls out a positively ancient ledger.

"This is Moneo, but it did change names a few generations ago."

"Moneo," Ardenne repeats the word, turning it over in his mind as the clerk checks the ledger's pages. There's something familiar about it to him, but he can't place it.

The lesser voices come bubbling up from within.

"That was professor's name in the College!" The young mage exclaims.

"He was the chief mage in the capital." The Templar says with awe.

"He was a very kind young man." Says the old woman.

"He was a demon!" Shrieks the Orc.

You press your knuckles into your eyes like you're rubbing away sleep and you slowly quiet them.

"Yeah, back when my mom took over from my grandma Anne. We went from Moyanna to Moneo. How did you know that?"

"Oh Troyanna," Ardenne laments, "She always hated the name Anne."

"Your grandmother, was her name Troyanna?"

His eyes widen, "How did you know that?"

"I think I knew your grandmother, sorta."

"Oh, we more than knew each other."

"How is that possible?" He's starting to light up with childlike excitement. "She's been dead since my mom was a teenager!"

"I think I misspoke." You realize that you may have just made a serious mistake.

"Are you like... some sort of spirit from out of time?" Potentially dangerous as it may be, he seems to be treating it like he's just met a superhero. "Or maybe you're possessed by one of her long-lost lovers and you've come back to stay at the inn where you two met one last time? Or maybe you're her, back from the grave and if I give you a night of hospitality, you'll tell me where you buried your life's savings."

"Where did that come from?" You sputter.

He looks you up and down then sighs, "Sorry, I've been reading a book about a girl out of time lately. " He gestures at the old tome. "It was my mom's favorite, I'm reading it while she's away."

"I recognize that book, have a look at it."

"Can I see that book for a second?"

He shrugs, "Sure."

The book is well-loved but also well-worn. It's the story of a young mage who propels herself across time during an experiment and the lovers of different eras she takes. It's also... absolute filth. More than one of the voices remembers reading it. More than one of the previous readers remembers reading it alone in their quarters. You open the front cover, on the inside is a note.

"To Troy, for all the memories it bears. -Ardenne"

"She did keep it!"

Multiple generations of this family have now bonded over this parting gift of... glorified pornography. But it's also not your place to decide what people take meaning from.

"What's your interest in that signature?" The clerk asks nervously.

"What does the name Ardenne mean to you?"

The question only makes him more nervous. "You're not uh... one of Moneo's students, are you?"

"Moneo!" Ardenne suddenly shrieks in your mind. "So the snake of The Order still lives! I knew I recognized the name. I should have come to it sooner, it's not like me to forget the name of the man I died with my hands around the neck of."

"No." You flatly say. It inadvertently carries a hint of the bile that Ardenne is spewing in your head.

The inflection seems to soothe the clerk. "He's apparently the black sheep of the big order of mages, the only one to ever be excommunicated after his ****. Apparently, he tried to kill grandmaster Moneo a hundred or so years ago."

Ardenne quietly seethes.

"Why did he try to kill Moneo?"

"The story goes he lusted after Moneo's power to replicate his body and when Moneo wouldn't give it up, Ardenne flew into a fit of jealous rage."

"Lies! Moneo's party trick was something any mage could do easily back then! He caught me breaking code and tried to **** me, so I waited until he was alone and took his life."

"But in his blindness, he attacked one of Moneo's clones instead of the real thing. While he was **** the clone, the real Moneo came from behind and slipped a poison needle into his spine."

"Is that what really happened?"

His face shifts uncomfortably, but he gives a very rehearsed "I would not question the words of the archmage."

"I've heard it was because Moneo was trying to **** Ardenne."

His face shifts to panic for a moment before he leans in and whispers "Are you trying to get me in trouble?"

"It's just what I heard." You backtrack.

He calms down, "You should be careful repeating that. Most of the lawkeepers in this town are the archmage's former students. It can get you into a lot of trouble to speak the truth like that."

He adds the last sentence quietly, with a nod to you. The message of "here and now is not where this should be talked about" rings clearly in both gestures.

Ardenne comes through with surprising composure. "So there are some at least who see through it, but finding that my worst enemy has ascended to the level of archmage is troubling. Whatever you do, even if somebody else should find out that you carry another spirit, you should make sure they don't know it's me. Exile or servitude would be preferable to finding out what creative tortures The Order can come up with... if an Order still remains."

The clerk takes the book back from you. "Would you like a room? Word hasn't gotten out of town yet so we still get a lot of mages coming in. I don't think it's fair to not let the word out and then charge you guys all the same. I can overlook your first night, but after that, you need to make new plans or start paying."

"Butter him up."

"Thank you, mister...?"

"My name is Derleth, if you need anything and I'm not out here, my room is behind the counter here." He gestured at the door behind him. "Don't be afraid to ask."

You slouch your way to your room, for once it seems like Ardenne is as exhausted as you are. You don't know that you could necessarily drop and go to sleep, it's more of a body tired. That said, it doesn't stop you from flopping down onto the bed and your eyes sliding shut.

You wake up a few hours later, shocked awake by the stiff ache of your legs and the sharp pain of whenever your foot shifts and brushes the blisters on your feet against the soft inside of the thin shoes under your robes. Your stomach feels cavernously empty, forcing you to realize you haven't eaten since... well ever, really. Looking at the window tells you it's late evening. The sun is setting, but not set. When you stir, your robes cling to you grossly from sweat. Somebody has come in while you slept and thrown the heavy comforter of the bed over you. That somebody has also left you a tray of bread and cheese. The feeling of invaded privacy crosses your mind for a moment, but doesn't last long enough and isn't strong enough to overpower how hungry you are.

"That could be poisoned, you know," Ardenne mumbles darkly but doesn't block himself from tasting it with your tastebuds.

You take a moment from eating to respond. "Why would Derleth want to kill me?"

"My dear, not all poisons exist for killing. Some merely paralyze or otherwise incapacitate."

"If he wanted me helpless, he could have had it while I was sleeping."

"Perhaps he merely wanted to play it safe."

"I trust him."

"You trust too easily. I can tell you the spells that might get you out of a sex dungeon, but I can't stop you from being put in one by your own incompetence."

"Why are you so convince the world wants to see me in a sex dungeon?"

"People often seek to possess beauty they can't otherwise grasp."

"Speaking from experience?"

His voice becomes playful but doesn't lose the edge of warning. "My dear, should I have wanted to when I was alive, I could have had a sex dungeon to put even the greatest of elven queens to shame."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Some of us are rational enough to account for the feelings of others. Some of us also prefer a partner to enjoy themselves."

"Was it one of your students?"

"How do you mean?"

"The **** that Moneo got on you."

"Perhaps, what gave you the idea?"

"Between the body and the mention of the restrictions only applying to teachers. It seems like you have a type, and that you weren't a fan of the rules."

He laughs, "Not bad. If it were true, how would it make you feel?"

"I suppose I almost thought better of you."

"That I would be more attracted to women my own age? My dear, what men and women find beautiful does not change. The appeal of youthfulness does not change. Even a woman of forty sours in most men's eyes next to a woman of twenty."

"How old were you and how old was she?"

"We were both consenting adults, though the balance of power was always the issue, not the age. You may find it gross, you are allowed that. But there are two types of women as there are two types of men in this matter. For women, it is those for whom the idea is attractive and those for whom the idea is repellant."

"And what are the types of men?"

"Whether or not they can tell the two apart!" He cackles.

You go back to ignoring him, hopefully for a while. You finish your meal and lay on your back in bed for a moment. When nothing bad happens to you, you decide to get up. The callouses on your feet don't thank you. You shuffle out into the hallway, peering one way down the hall to the entryway of the baths and the other to the entryway. Derleth is sitting bored at the counter, so lost in his book that he doesn't seem to notice you.

"You could go talk to him, but you're starting to stink badly enough to be picked up at a distance."

You sniff the inside of your robes. He's lying, but you do smell pretty bad.

"The baths are right here, free of charge. Hell, you could go invite him to come with you if you want. Might be able to earn yourself a few free nights if you help wash his back."

The thought isn't actually that bad to entertain, but you're not sure that you're that bold. You could also just bathe alone. Additionally, you don't have to bathe, despite what polite society may tell you. You could take this time to go into town. Your limbs protest going out of town and heading to the college. The setting sun agrees.

"If you get too nervous, just let me take over your body, I'll give it back when I'm done... honest."