Bernt stripped off his clothes in the chilly ging area, noting with some embarrassment that he smelled a bit under one arm. He’d meant to get up earlier today and bathe before ing, but he’d been up te, finally recreating the portal to nowhere in the ba of his house and talking to Jori. The opportunity to catch up had just been too tempting to pass up and they’d spent hours well into the night doing just that.

  It had been good to learn more about Jori’s projed how Ed was doing, even if he wasn’t totally sure what he thought of it all. The imp didn’t seem to have a clear pn for what to do with her cousins once she freed them. That worried him. What if she didn’t want to leave them? Worse, what if she insisted on summoning all of them to the mortal pne? He remembered the sight of them bearing down on the defenders from above during the battle – how one had torn out Bartholomew’s throat. Could Jori trol them all? For that matter, she was w to free them. So, would she even want to? Bernt didn’t have answers, but he had s.

  The real surprise, though, had been learning that the demons had it out for him, personally. Not humans, not Halfbridge, but Bernt the Underkeeper. Apparently Nuros had put out a bounty for his head in some kind of misguided attempt to win Jori’s loyalty, or at least her service or something. They thought killing him would break her pact with him, or her “obligation”, whatever the difference was supposed to be. Of course, they didn’t actually have a pact, or any kind of binding service agreement. Bernt was not a warlock. If he were, he would have already summoned Jori back.

  Of course, Jori had already reported all this to the Solicitors, who had not seen fit to share it with him in turn. Ed had, predictably, demahat he get Iria involved. Bernt wao avoid that if at all possible, though. For o would mean that everyone, including the Solicitors, would learn about his familiar bond – likely soohahat felt like too much to give up just to file a pint about ie information sharing. Worse, if Iria or Radast decided this was important enough, either or both might decide to interfere with his other pns so they could keep him here.

  Bernt had spent weeks cramming history, protocol and rhetorical skills, but one point had sunk in more than all the others, reinforced by Iria at every opportunity. Politics happened everywhere, all the time – even and especially between allies. Right now, he was just a tool both Iria and Radast were pying with, even if he couldn’t see exactly what they were doing. In their games, his goals and is weren’t a factor. He could accept that and allow himself to be moved as a pie a board, or he could join the game himself. Carefully.

  The familiar bond was a hidden advantage – maybe their best. It had to serve his is, and Jori’s first. He couldn’t just give it up for free, and especially not now. Bernt would be appointed as a legitimator soon, and leaving not long after that. He would duct his research at the Phoenix Reaches, scour every library on the way for useful knowledge and watch Torvald’s back while he did it. Going forward, he would build a new css of sorcerer mages, both in and outside the guild, and he was going to do it personally. Pollock had the right of it – this was where he could make the biggest impact, and where he could build the power and influence he o get ahe Solicitors off Jori’s back permaly.

  He just o work out how.

  Sighing to himself, Bernt fastened his belt over the warm wool robe, stepped out, and looked into the mirror. He shrugged his shoulders and held his arms out to check the length of the sleeves. It was the first time he’d ever had clothes -fitted, and they sat much more fortably than his Underkeepers’ uniform. The robes were still gray – his status as an Underkeeper was what qualified him to be a legitimator, after all – but they had a lighter shade than his uniform with darker ats around the hem. Additionally, he now had two narrow red stripes embroidered on his sleeves to represent his two iures. Those wouldn’t do anything meaningful for his status at court, but it was traditional. It was going to be a formal event, after all.

  Hopefully, he could s them for the braided stripes of a magister whe back.

  “Perfect!” the elderly tailor said, stepping up to examine him. “Now, yoing to want to be careful with these seams here, alright? They’re temporary, so your enter open them up to get at the leather lining oorso. If you pick at them out ireet, they’ll e apart.”

  Bernt smiled at the man and gave him a little bow. “Thank you fetting this done so quickly. I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s very nice, and you’re wele,” the tailor said, peering at him over his gsses, “do feel free to express your appreciation moarily as well, though. I trust that you’re satisfied?”

  “Of course.” Bernt said, retrieving his bag to t the s out for him while doing his best not to let the pain show on his face. Sixteen gold marks and thirty-eight silver. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to spending that kind of money, but this was what it was for.

  Besides, it was a fair price. The tailor had really outdone himself, adding a warm hood, making adjustments and yeriher uhe wool lining to provide additional prote. Once Grixit got his hands ohese robes might provide eveer prote than his work clothes – despite lookier, being far more fortable and weighihan half as much.

  The goblin shaman had insisted that the tailor use sheep leather, which had added to the cost, but Bernt wasn’t going tue with the man. Grixit’s work had yet to let him down, and he was dht affordable pared to traditional enters.

  Regardless, entments were a for ter. the tailor a smile and a nod, he gathered his things a. He was due at the castle ihan two hours, aill o take a bath.

  ***

  The gates were open whe arrived at the castle, though one of the guards stopped him to look at his letter of invitation before he could enter. He’d expected the pce to be a hub of activity, but it seemed no busier tha time he’d been here – when Ed had takehere to report the kobold incursion. Had that really only been a few months ago?

  As he crossed the courtyard, he was met by a vaguely familiar-looking young man with ink stains on his fingers.

  “Underkeeper Bernard, right? ” the man said, looking him over critically. My name is Art, I’m the t’s secretary.” Bernt nodded in firmation and he smiled politely.

  “Good. Please, follow me. I’ll be briefing you on what to expect.”

  Without saying anything, Bernt followed the skinny little man inside and down a corridor to the left. A few moments ter, they entered a modestly sized room where three other people, two men and a woman, were already waiting for them. Not b with introdus, Art cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention and addressed the room.

  “I’m sure you’re all very curious why you’ve been summoo appear before the court today. It is my pleasure to inform you that you have beeed to represent the t and the Kingdom of Besermark as legitimators to the Invigition. If you’re not familiar, that means –”

  Bernt stopped paying attention to Art’s expnation of what a legitimator was and examihe other people in the room. They were all humans, which Bernt thought was a little odd. If he remembered his academy lessons correctly, humans made up about half of the Beseri poputions – he would have at least expected a gnome or a dwarf. It seemed that Torvald had been right. They really wouldn’t have appointed Nirlig, even if he’d reended him.

  Taking a closer look, Bernt realized that he reized one of the men – Leirin, the archdruid who he’d met in the dungeon and who had created the vihat lit up the Uy. He barely reized him with his hair oiled and wearing an embroidered jacket, rather than the long off-white tunics that druids normally wore. Wasn’t he a high-ranking adventurer? How was he a gover employee?

  o him sat a nervous-looking younger man, though he robably still a few years older tha. He was dressed expensively and had the look of someone who didn’t spend much time outdoors – pale and skinny, not unlike Haln. He had a pen and paper out, and his eyes were focused on Art, hanging onto every word as though the gods themselves were speaking to him. Every few seds, he would look down to scribble something on the paper before fog his attention ba the secretary.

  Last was the only woman in the room. She wore a military uniform, marking her as one of Arice’s people – an officer, judging by the stripes on her shoulder, though she couldn’t have been much older than the fidgety mao her. The trast couldn’t have been clearer. She sat as straight as a ntern pole, with no expression on her face at all. There were some stripes on her shoulder, which Bernt knew marked her as some kind of officer, but nothing on her sleeves, so she wasn’t a member of any specialized corps like mages, rangers or berserkers would be.

  “You will receive papers allowing you to draw your normal saries, as well as additional funds for expenses and a small stipend from Beseri banks for the duration of your service.” Art said, drawi’s attention. “Once you accept, you will be itted for a term of five years, or until the dismisses you, or until your charge departs the kingdom without an express io return. If any of you io turn down this appoi, you should inform me now. We have other options in reserve. Denying the t to his face would be… unfortunate.”

  Bernt looked around. Nobody said anything.

  Art nodded and cleared his throat again. “Good. In that case, please follow me to be preseo the court. They should be ready for us in a matter of minutes.”

  ***

  “Wizard Bernard, of the Underkeepers.”

  When the doors opened in front of him, Bernt’s legs felt oddly shaky, but he forced himself to move when he heard Art announce him. He’d called him wizard, just as Iria had retly started doing. It sounded odd to him, somehow. Were they doing it to make him sound less like a simple Underkeeper, or to emphasize his association with the Mages’ Guild?

  The room was full of people, at least fifty of them. All of them were watg him, and for a moment, it made Bernt fet what he was supposed to do. Meically, he stepped forward, palms sweating as he approached the t. The old man sat front aer in a tall chair, looking at him while leaning to the side as someone else whispered something to him.

  Letting out a slow breath, Bernt tried to ighe audiend focused on what he was supposed to do. He bowed at the waist and waited for the t to begin speaking before he stood up straight again. He’d been listening through the door as the two legitimators before him were announced, and the ceremo at least somewhat familiar now. As the t repeated the same words once more, he mao rex a bit.

  “Underkeeper Bernard. You are hereby appointed by my authority as the lord of Halfbridge to represent the is of the as a legitimator to the Invigition – to apany, validate and dot the as of Torvald, a Padin of Ruzinia and representative of the Invigition. Do you accept this charge?”

  “I accept.” Bernt said formally, and followed up with another borotocol dictated.

  Standing up straight again, he realized that he’d fotten to find Torvald in the crowd as he ehe room. He was supposed to go stao him, symbolically taking on his task immediately. Trying not to be too obvious, he sed the crowd to his left and right. He found Iria first, who met his eyes before looking meaningfully to Bernt’s left.

  Turning, Bernt found the padin just behind him and to his left, and stepped over to take his pce. Bernt wasn’t sure if the crowd had noticed his moment of hesitation, or if they were just polite enough to ig. Either way, his part in this was over, for now, and he was thankful for it. Torvald gave him a friendly nod and turned back to look at the t. He seemed totally rexed, even though he guessed the padin must have just gohrough a simir introdu.

  If this was what the lives of politis and nobles was like, he would take ing sewers over it any day of the week. Across from him stood Archdruid Leirin, who arently also the t’s agricultural advisor, and Captaia, who turned out to be a junior tacti. By the looks of the priests standio them, they’d been assigo representatives of the temples of Eyeli and Noruk, respectively.

  “Barin of Hilltower.” Art announced, opening the doors once more to admit the st of their number.

  The fidgety young maered, going through the same motions that Bernt had just pleted. He would never have guessed that he was a noble. For that matter, he wondered what kind of political maneuvering had put him in this position. He certainly didn’t seem like someone who wao folloriest around on a potentially dangerous winter jourhat might well carry them all to war at some point. Listening with half an ear, Bernt heard the t assign him Angjou, the high priestess of Barian.

  “In light of the fall of Loamfurth, as well as the Duergar’s ret aggression against us here, King Renias’ has pledged his cooperation with the Invigition as it seeks to rehe exercise of its a mandate. Representatives of the four temples have been Chosen here and from all ers of the tio meet at the Sacral Peaks.”

  t Narald paused for effect, making eye tact with the crowd. “There, six weeks from today, they will determine a united course, with the aim to bind all mankind to our on purpose – to protect ourselves, our neighbors, and all of humanity against the depredations of demons and those who would wield them against us.”

  Six weeks. Bernt wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take them to reach the Sacral Peaks, but he was sure they would have to leave soon. It was winter, and they would o be prepared and leave time for unfavorable ditions. Still, it felt good to finally have a clear course. It was done. Bernt was officially a legitimator.