Talking in my head

A pounding on Osric’s door jolts him awake.

“What is it?” He springs to his feet, dazed.

“There's a man out front saying you need to see the Prime Minister,” Randolf’s muffled voice comes through the door.

The Prime Minister... Uh-oh.

Osric bolts down the stairs, fastening his cloak, nearly collides with Catalina — frozen in the doorway, eyes wide.

He looks to see what she’s gawking at: a bald man in a black suit and top hat, bowing on the front steps.

“You must be the Sage? The Prime Minister requests your presence at the castle, immediately.”

“Uh... okay?” Osric replies hesitantly. He starts to brush past Catalina, but she grabs his arm and yanks him back.

“How does the Prime Minister know about you?” she hisses in his ear.

“Yeah, I kind of already met him... but I forgot to mention it.” Osric gives her a nervous smile, scratching the back of his head.

“Can I come too?” Catalina asks the man.

He stops mid-turn. “Hmm… The King did not say anything about guests.”

“The King?” Osric blurts out.

“Please, I’m his mother!” she shouts.

“I suppose.” The man leads them to a large red carriage trimmed with gold.

Osric sits next to Catalina in the carriage. Her bouncing leg shakes the entire seat.

“So… what do the Prime Minister and the King want to see my son for?” Catalina asks, eyes fixed on the bald man sitting across from them.

“That they would not tell me,” he replies.

Catalina’s leg shakes faster. She bites her fingernail.

>>>

After a long and disturbingly silent ride, the carriage finally stops.

Osric steps out, taking in the grand courtyard. The vast green lawn ends abruptly at a tall stone wall, with a metal gate set in the center. A pristine cobblestone path runs straight to the grand marble stairs. Hedges shaped like animals — green bears, deer, and rabbits — line the castle walls.

Osric stares up at the towering castle; three spires rising from a square central structure, their roofs beautifully shingled in a shimmering blue material. Osric whistles in awe. "The treasury here must be full of gold," he mutters. "I can see an easy life ahead of me."

“Come now, ma’am.” The suited man grips Catalina’s hand, helping her down the step of the carriage. “We must hurry.”

>>>

The man leads them down the spacious hallways of the castle, stopping at a small wooden door — much less impressive than the foreboding double doors they had passed.

“Right through here. The King and Prime Minister are expecting you.” He swings the door open.

Osric and Catalina step into a small meeting room. A red carpet patterned with symmetrical flower designs stretches across the floor. The wooden walls are carved with vines and blossoms. Two windows on the far wall are draped with thick, fuzzy red curtains.

Two couches sit in the middle of the room, separated by a glass table. On the far sofa sit Harold, the Prime Minister, and the King.

“Promised boy! What was your name again? Come, sit down.” Harold points at the couch across from him.

Settling in, Osric takes a good look at the king. He looks exactly like I expect a fantasy king should: a fancy cape, purple velvety (obviously expensive) clothes, a long gray beard — But those purple eyes... I've yet to see eyes like that in this world.  Osric can’t stop staring at their almost glowing depth.

“My goodness. Just like the legend. Deep red eyes!” the king says.

“Your Majesty,” Catalina says shakily.

“Oh, right — where are my manners? I’m King Edward Sagia the Sixth.” He extends his hand.

“Osric Han.” He shakes it.

“Catalina Han.” She does the same. “Why have you brought my son here today?” she blurts out.

“I’d like to ask you first — why are you here? I did not specify for guests,” Harold interrupts.

“I’m his mother!” She struggles to fight her rising voice.

“You  wait outside,” Harold demands.

Catalina’s head droops as she stands and lumbers toward the door. The suited man outside closes it behind her.

Osric shifts uncomfortably on the couch. Well… that went well. What did she think would happen? Hope that didn’t just tank my reputation meter… I really need that gold.

“Why have you called me here… Your Majesty?” Osric asks.

“The number of demon sightings in the Serpentspine Mountains is increasing. It’s rather alarming. Then Harold mentioned that he saw a peculiar boy with red eyes in the town of Lumora. I asked that he bring this boy to me at once.”

Osric eyes Harold, who sits upright on the sofa, legs crossed, hands resting neatly on his knee, smiling unassumingly. I really can’t get a read on him… like his stat screen is completely blocked.

“But before we get into that, I’d like to confirm if you really are the new Grand Sage.” The King leans forward, reaching behind his back. He pulls out two books.

He sets them on the table: two very old, leather-bound volumes. The one on the left is titled simply "Wrath." The other, untitled — no engravings, just bare leather.

“The Grand Sage might not have told you about the book on the left. The legend says it appeared before the first king one day, after the Grand Sage had already disappeared. But surely he told you of the book on your right?” the King asks.

Osric scratches his chin. What is there to say? It’s just a leather book. And this Grand Sage guy hasn’t told me anything. Everyone seems to think I have some sort of telepathic link with him. I could take a guess…

“This is the tome bestowed upon the first king in the legend.” Osric looks up from the book.

“Yes, but what is the tome called? If you remember, all the text disappeared from the tome — including the title, and the name has always been excluded from public legends,” the king explains.

“Ha ha ha.” Osric deepens his voice. “Of course I know that. The real question is — do you know the title? Prove to me that you really are the king,” he blurts out.

Osric winces at himself. Why did I say that? That’s not how you’re supposed to talk to a King. I’m losing reputation points.

“I do appreciate the humor, but I really must know. Are you the new Sage?” the King asks.

The room falls silent. Osric feels nervous sweat forming on his forehead.

He reaches down and pokes the book, hoping it will reveal something. Nothing. Am I not the Sage? Did I not unlock the Decipher skill yet?

“Quadra Codex.” A raspy, deep voice echoes throughout the room. Osric shivers in his seat, looking around for the voice that seemed to reach his ears from all directions at once. 

“Did you hear that?” Osric asks, his eyes still darting around the room.

“Hear what?” Harold raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing.” Osric clears his throat. Was that the Grand Sage finally talking to me in my head?

“Everything alright?” the king asks.

“Yes, I’m good.” Osric points at the book. “Is this book called the Quadra Codex?”

“Yes! You really are the new Sage.” The King exclaims, standing up and grasping Osric’s hands across the table.

Looks like I didn’t lose all my points, Osric thinks as the King shakes his hands.

The King settles back on the sofa. “Then you can restore the Quadra Codex to its former glory, correct?”

“Heh, of course I can,” Osric bellows.

“Well then, please do it. I fear we may need its power soon.”

“Oh, like right now?” Osric asks.

The King nods.

“Right.” Osric stands, points both palms at the book, and lets out a long, strained grunt.

He plops back onto the sofa, arms crossed, brow furrowed. Uh… that didn’t work. What should I do? I feared something like this would happen. I don’t know enough about magic.

"Well, can you do it?" Harold leads in.

“It appears that the curse placed on the tome has progressed over these thousands of years. My powers are not strong enough to release it now,” Osric lies, forcing a confident grin. Ugh. Hopefully they buy that. I'm really pushing my charisma here.

“I see.” The King strokes his chin. “Is there anything I can assist you with in the meantime?”

Osric tries to hide his bafflement, forcing his dropping jaw closed. He bought that. I must have rolled a 20. But what do I need? More knowledge about magic… how about a magic school?

“Get me admission into a magic school.”

“Of course! How about the one here in the capital?” the King eagerly asks.

Osric suddenly remembers the strange mage he saw in Lumora. Surely the magic they teach here is similar to what I learned in the book. I might need something unconventional… like that mage who turned water into an ice sculpture. Maybe I need to go to the school in Aurelith.

“Could you instead get me in contact with the school in Aurelith?”

The King’s eyes widen. “Why would you ever set foot there? That place is full of heathens!”

“What’s so bad about it?” Osric recoils, confused.

“I suppose the new Sage should know…” The King clears his throat. “The public reason for the civil war that split the eastern section of the kingdom into the province of Aurelith was disputes over trading with the Empire of Duskhan. But the true reason is that many in Aurelith were dabbling in demon magic — forbidden in the Holy Scripture. We have no contact with them, so I cannot arrange your admission.”

“Hm. I see you know the history well. I was just testing you.” Osric strokes his chin.

“I’m flattered,” The king responds.

“Very well then. I would like to attend a magic school here.”

“I can arrange that immediately.” The king rises and heads toward the door.

“Hold it!” Osric shouts.

The King stops, the door slightly ajar.

“This school teaches literacy as well, yes?”

“All of our magic schools teach reading and writing — it’s essential for spellcasting.”

Osric nods his head. I feel a little bit guilty that Elayne's reading lessons have fallen through. But this way, some poor soul will have to suffer through teaching her to read instead of me.

“Would it be alright if my bodyguard attends as well?”

“Certainly! Whatever the new Sage needs.” The King whispers something to the suited man at the doorway, then sets off down the hall.

“Osric. Promised boy,” Harold calls, leaning close. “Did the Grand Sage tell you anything about the dragons?” he whispers.

“Dragons?” Osric pulls back.

“There was an older version of the legend detailing how the Grand Sage summoned dragons. I guess he didn’t tell you,” Harold says.

“What do you mean, dragons?” Osric asks.

Harold walks away, leaving the question unanswered.

“Grand Sage, sir. I’ve been instructed to take you both home so you can gather your things. We will head to the magic school immediately after.” The suited man gestures for him to follow.

As Osric steps through the doorway, he glances up at Catalina, a scowl like nothing he’s ever seen before etched on her face.