Hutch The Wizard

Hutch missed his apprentice dearly, but from everything he had heard regarding his beloved apprentice, she had been doing wonderfully. Word traveled far and fast, especially when you had scryers and familiars constantly checking in on them. Though the scryers could not peer into the battle with Draeven, they already knew of his betrayal because of their constant watch on Illyandaril’s party, especially thanks to his connection to his apprentice, Nemi. Hutch had already told the King of his daughter’s success, and the smile on his face was all Hutch needed. The King’s child, Hutch’s apprentice, The Chef’s Daughter, one of their most trusted servants, and an Outworlder that they spent a fortune to summon. It was not a party any of them had expected to see form, even amidst uncertain times, but everyone at the castle was abuzz with pride at just how well the next generation was performing.

Though work had since become dreadfully boring for Hutch, now that his duties practically doubled without the help of his apprentice, he didn’t complain. The feasts were smaller, but while Hestia’s father worried, Hutch always reassured him that his daughter was happy and thriving. On his way back to his study for his own personal practice of magic, Hutch stopped dead in his tracks as he passed by the window overlooking Aldelthorne city. He dropped the books he was carrying, and his jaw hung open. Fire. Aldelthorne was burning. He could hear the screams of the citizens as they ran for cover, the sounds of blades clashing as soldiers battled against an unknown enemy. He even spotted some of the elite knights battling at the castle gates, hopelessly outnumbered against an enemy dressed in all black. The Dark Lord’s forces.

Hutch could spare no time for the others. Staff in hand, he sprinted towards where he believed the King was. The screams of the castle staff erupted as the castle walls were infiltrated. The clash of blades rang loud, not far away from where he was running. Two black knights stood before him, squared up and ready for battle. “Out of my way! Volfrum!” A dark sphere surrounded the two black knights, sucking them into an all-consuming void that disappeared along with them. Running past where the knights were, he feared the worst if enemies had gotten this deep into the castle.

“Your Majesty!” Hutch shouted as he opened the King’s chamber doors. However, he found nothing. “Of course,” Hutch thought to himself, “in an emergency like this, the King will always hurry towards the inner sanctum!” Two more knights charged him as he turned around. The void of the Volfrum spell consumed one, but another managed to avoid being consumed by nothingness. Swinging his blade, Hutch narrowly dodged back as he imbued the bottom of his staff with lightning. Pressing it to the plate of the knight, his staff speared through, erasing the knight inside with arcane might as sparks ran rampant.

Where were the guards? He couldn’t find a single living friendly face in the halls, and while it might be a momentary blessing to see so few of his own dead, it concerned him more that there were so few of them to begin with. Again and again he encountered endless waves of knights coming his way. Enemy magicians threw fire at him, but with a clever use of the winds, their own flames would turn against them. The court magician was not selected because he was smart, he was selected because he was the strongest magician in all of Aldelthorne. A true wizard who had achieved mastery of arts beyond what most can conceive, he was proud of his arcane might, but he hated that he had to use it now.

An attack he could not see coming hit him as he eliminated another squad of invaders. A slash aimed for his head sliced off the pointed tip of his ear instead. Not a moment later an all-consuming light disintegrated the would-be assassin. It hurt, but it was an ultimately inconsequential injury. Despite that, he knew he’d get endless jabs from Nemi for the cosmetic damage. His apprentice. Suddenly, he was thankful she wasn’t here.

“Hutch!!” A familiar voice called to him. It was one of the new guards, covered in wounds, but surviving. His shield and spear were covered in blood. “Sir! We’ve been caught off guard! The chain of command hasn’t been established, and the enemy is walking all over us! What do we do??” The young man asked as he caught his breath. Hutch could tell by the look in the boy’s eyes—he killed his first man today, and likely not just one. The soul shattering reality waiting for him at the edge of adrenaline that all warriors endure was waiting for him, but there was nothing to be done about that.

“Go to the stables! The castle is lost, grab the fastest hoshirin and ride like The Dark Lord himself is on your tail! Find Illyandaril! Tell her what happened here. I’ll try to get her father out of here.” Placing his staff on the boy’s helmet, a quick power word teleported him to the stable. A handy power, but only specific places in the castle had the necessary runes for him to pull this off. Neither the King’s royal chambers, nor the sanctuary had these runes for fear of being exploited by the enemy. Such runes had a range limit, too, meaning if Hutch himself left Aldelthorne, he wouldn’t be able to teleport anyone anywhere.

It took a lot of power to transport someone else, and it left the great wizard momentarily winded. However, he wouldn’t be given much time to rest. “There!!” A voice rang out. Hutch was surrounded again by black-plated simpletons. Sighing, he gripped his staff tightly, holding it forward as lightning covered both ends of the staff. “Bring it on!!” He roared, meeting their assault head on.

When Hutch finally reached the inner sanctum, he was covered in wounds. He had lost track of just how many he himself had slain, but their numbers never seemed to end. Limping into the sanctum, Hutch pushed the door shut behind him. It was dark, too dark. Stumbling forward, he wondered if it had been intentional. Magic was often frowned upon to be used within the sanctum, but given the circumstances, he knew he had little choice. With a flick of his worn-out staff and a little magic word, a ball of light appeared in the middle of the sanctum. Visible now before him were many of their most elite warriors, completely still, among them, King Roland lay flat on his back, cut down with a single clean strike.

Hutch’s worst fears had come to pass. His King, the man that took him despite knowing what a troublemaker he was in his youth, the man that had introduced him to his beloved apprentice, and the one who kept this entire kingdom afloat was gone. He seemed almost peaceful in passing, like he accepted his death without fear, knowing that his daughter would be okay. As much as Hutch’s heart shattered, however, he knew he could not afford to waste time mourning just yet. Channeling what remaining mana he had, he coursed his mana through the sanctum and out of the castle, releasing a bright pink firework into the sky. Its eruption would alert their allies of the peril they now face, of the status of the king, and the ultimate fall of Aldelthorne.

Hutch’s staff dropped from his hand as he looked down. He could hardly feel it, but a single, large blade had pierced his chest from behind him. “You fight bravely.” A voice behind him called. “That King Roland was quite the clever dog. He knew what was going on before it even happened and dispatched familiars to the other kingdoms. He even tried to seal me in here. It’s a shame, he knew too much, yet not enough to save his life.”

Hutch stumbled forward as his attacker withdrew his blade. This was it. With his death, and the death of the King, Aldelthorne had truly fallen, though it hadn't died with them. Illyandaril, Renji, Nemi, he knew that as long as they lived, there was some hope that Aldelthorne may yet be restored. “The Dark Lord. Pity you strike from behind. I have been so eager to fight you.” Hutch coughed up blood. This wasn’t good. He had seconds before it was lights out. As his assailant laughed, Hutch gazed at the statue of Magus before closing his eyes, praying a sacred pact to the Wizard god.

Then, a surge of power struck him. Magus had heard his request for a pact, and accepted. Magus’ laughter could be heard echoing throughout the castle as power unlike anything Hutch had ever known coursed through his body. The wounds that would have been lethal moments ago were restored, and his eyes glowed with an unrelenting arcane power. Too much power. It began to fray at Hutch’s very flesh, creating cracks in his body, and beneath only mana surged. Hutch’s body was slowly being eroded by the very power granted to him, but all of that wanton power and hatred was focused solely upon The Dark Lord.“That Magus, always too eager to listen to the whims of his followers. Very well, Hutch Ardenthal, you are seen. I accept your challenge, Keeper of Secrets, Warden of The Dawn. I shall fight you as my first worthy opponent since my resurrection!”