At the very least, the President didn’t die that night and nobody knocked on Aemric’s door in the morning. Hesitantly, he checked on Norvash, but the guy was just making his way around his own home in his pajamas. He was very sour about not having gotten drunk enough the previous day, and was putting in effort to decide what his ‘limited’ drinking options were going to be.

  Aemric stopped Dreaming, then shrugged. If that was all the guy was worried about, it was fine. He promptly had a suspicion, though, and did some research.

  One bottle of wine a day was probably too much leeway, especially since ‘one bottle’ varied a lot. There were actually a lot of specifics to alcohol he’d just never interacted with. Aemric sighed… he’d correct it later.

  Then there was class, and when it was over, there were essays. Research into what might be possible with this newfound reach over Sal Tudi was definitely the next priority. Aemric didn’t know a single thing about running a country, or what that island could possibly do against the end of the world.

  Partway through his essay, though, Aemric’s vision swam and he found himself Dreaming.

  A ballet room; at least, that was what Aemric thought it was at first. A smooth wooden floor, small dimensions, no furniture. Then, he saw the various melee weapons used as wall decorations and the fact that Tiria and her father were there. He put two and two together and realized it was some kind of sparring room.

  It didn’t seem like anyone was about to die in a sparring match, though, as neither of them were standing or active; they were kneeling, facing each other, in the center of the room. Another six men were present, too. Four of them were in the usual uniform, and posted in the four corners. The fifth was a man in a normal black suit, who stood to the side, and the last was an older man in a blood-red suit, who stood behind Tiria’s father.

  The man in black hummed in concern. “I feel something. Yes… there is something here.” His eyes were closed, and Aemric immediately understood that he was tracking the magic in the air. This was quite dangerous indeed… he waited, though, since he’d already put thought to this particular eventuality. Time was, theoretically, still going to be on his side, as these events hadn’t happened yet. Anything he did that was detected in the future could be avoided.

  “Is it truly malicious?” Mr. Fensott asked.

  The man in red chided him quietly. “Eager, are you? Let him work. This force must know we are here… it may try to flee.”

  “...Apologies, master.”

  Aemric hesitated for a moment; maybe there was a danger here. Could they get to him anyway?

  The man in black frowned, opened his eyes, and shook his head. “This spell is of a kind I have never seen nor heard of before. At least, I have never heard of anyone practicing it. It seems… to break boundaries not meant to be broken. Time, and distance, they have no bearing on it.”

  “What do you mean?” The man in red demanded. “Do not speak in riddles.”

  “I mean that much. Anything more is conjecture. I… would have to guess this spell is sent through time. Either forward, or backward. It may even control time more directly, looping it, or stopping it entirely. It is hard to say. No mortal man has ever controlled a time spirit before, there is almost nothing to compare it to.” The poor magician was visibly fighting his mounting fear; he stayed still and spoke in measured tones, but his eyes and the way his head tilted away told the story of just how much time magic scared him.

  This was exactly why Aemric thought it was insane, too. He couldn’t speak as surely as the magician in that room could, but the basic idea of casting a spell to control time was the stuff of TV shows. He didn’t really fear it quite as much, though: probably because he wasn’t near the business end of the spell.

  “There is more.” The man in black continued. “Vision… and control. Her mind is indeed touched by the spell. This is simpler… but very subtle. Very, very hard to detect. Any of it would be impossible to see without knowing about it beforehand, but this in particular is so well-woven that the puppeting threads are like spider’s silk.”

  The man in red lifted his chin, on the verge of decision. “Can it be broken?”

  Aemric’s vision on the room blurred very slightly. The man in black confirmed, “No.” Counterspell. Hadn’t worked, apparently: considering a mage could counter just about any spell that cost up to twice their own reserve of magic, knowing exactly how powerful this guy was would’ve been nice, but no…

  The man in red raised a hand. “Then remove her.” He then turned and left the room with the magician; yet more guards closed the door behind them.

  Aemric was surprised, and after a moment he beat himself up for it. Of course this was how it would go! They were some kind of organized crime family! If they learned of any of this, they’d have Tiria killed rather than leaving her as a loose end, and they wouldn’t even blink about it.

  Wait, how did they find out?

  He got to this question just before Mr. Fensott looked at his daughter, and nodded. He pulled a knife from the inside of his jacket, and handed it to Tiria. She took it, firmly, and trembled very slightly. It wasn’t a weapon, an opportunity to try and escape. Not from the room, anyway.

  Aemric gave Tiria one order. She muttered, quietly. “Shortly after 21:00.”

  She let those be her last words without any hesitation.

  Aemric wanted to throw up. He held that back, though. He didn’t have time.

  He knew it was around 20:00… checking the clock, he had less than that, even. Half an hour. Just to get to the bus stop would be ten minutes, then there was waiting for it, and getting out of town. A taxi might be faster, but it was still not enough.

  He’d have to Dream right here.

  Tiria was already in that room. That was already a problem; she even had two guards in the room with her. They seemed to be different people than the four that were present later. Her father, the magician, and the man in the red suit – the ‘master’ – weren’t present.

  Aemric figured that was lucky. Still, he had too many other things going against him: the first one was Tiria herself. Without her cooperation he couldn’t really fight his way out of this. With the sheer lack of experience, it would take him an insane amount of re-trying to beat multiple professionals in a melee fight. That was assuming nobody had a gun, too.

  He asked Tiria a question. She muttered. “You told them, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “And I guess you know why you’re here.”

  “I do.”

  “The magician couldn’t figure it out. This is way, way beyond what any of these guys understand. You know that, right? This is big. They’re going to try to kill you.”

  Silence. He couldn’t see her expressions from up above.

  “I can get you out of here. You know I can see the future, and correct any mistakes. If you work with me, you can get out of here.”

  “Are you scared they will learn where you are?”

  “No. Not in the slightest. What I am scared of is you dying. Not because you’re important to this damn task of mine, honestly I don’t think you’re meant to play a part in that at all. I’ve got… a lot more to work with than you now. Entire countries.” True and not true, but it worked for a bluff. “I’m worried for you. You don’t need to die for this, you didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, I’ll even leave you alone… just, please. Work with me, here. Say what you need to, tell them you were wrong, I don’t know. Nobody has to get hurt here today.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “No. I can’t.”

  The carrot really didn’t seem to work with her, did it? Aemric considered his options. A too-loyal Tiria, two no-nonsense guards, presumably some kind of building full of other problems to solve, one of them being Tiria’s own father, and probably a magician somewhere.

  Wait, where was the magician? Aemric suddenly realized that his not being present was important. He’d clearly been called in to confirm what they were dealing with, and possibly counterspell it. Surely that work was absolutely crucial, and so he’d be in the room as soon as possible?

  Tiria’s mouth moved under Aemric’s control; he’d made up his mind to stop asking her, and just have her answer. The questions he needed answered were outside of the realm of things she wanted to talk about. “My father sent for the mage an hour ago. He should be here soon.”

  He wasn’t here yet. And the ‘master?’

  “I don’t know who you mean.” The order was then clarified. “The Master of the Red Scale. I didn’t realize he was coming.”

  Could be anywhere. The father?

  “Preparing.” More clarifications. “I don’t know what it is.”

  That would be a long time to… well, Aemric didn’t know how long it took to sharpen a knife; maybe that was it. Presumably sharper was better for a clean death. He didn’t want to think about that.

  Another question.

  “They are my father’s subordinates. They have fought beside him for over a decade.”

  A decade’s worth of combat experience, then. Tiria was clearly good, but she was also definitely younger, weaker, and less experienced. Aemric didn’t need to be an expert to guess at that.

  He had some information now. Something for a plan, probably. Paths out…

  “This is the Red Scale’s local office. It is about twenty stories tall. This is the fifteenth floor.”

  Okay. That wasn’t a good sign. Fighting out of here was probably impossible. Maybe… with a ton of re-trying it, sure, but anything was possible in the realm of entropy at that rate. Then, Aemric would probably find himself hunted down in no time, thanks to the enormous magic spike.

  There was something to try before that.

  The man in the red suit – the Red Scale Master – entered the room after his four guards did. The previous two guards filed out after the magician and Tiria’s father took up their spots.

  Tiria looked at the Master directly from her spot, kneeling on the floor. The man seemed annoyed at this mild insubordination.

  The magician, meanwhile, was surprised. “It has already begun. There is indeed a spell… one-”

  “Very powerful, beyond time and space.” Tiria completed the line, in almost perfect monotone. “Perhaps sent from the future, or the past. Or, perhaps, the spell only controls the present, stopping, slowing, or looping it. All conjecture. What you know for certain is that it is well beyond your capabilities, woven so perfectly it is as subtle as a spider’s thread. It also grants vision, and control. Did I miss anything?”

  The mage struggled to remain composed. “No… that is indeed what I was going to say. Master, I must warn you; no-”

  “No mortal man has ever controlled time before. Yet here we are.”

  “Precisely…” The magician said, quietly.

  “Is it a danger to us?” The Master asked. He seemed perfectly steady, but considering he was asking this on the second run and not the first, that was a front.

  Tiria answered again. “If need be, entire countries could be mobilized against you, and no matter what you attempt to do, no matter how far you try to run, you would never be able to fight back in a way that matters. Time would repeat over, and over, and over again until every last speck of your organization has been crushed into dust. It is only a convenience that has this vessel chosen rather than you, yourself. And so, yes… we are a danger to you. It is fortunate that we intend to work with you, not against you.”

  Aemric hoped this enormous bluff would hold. Maybe, if he was lucky, that would become fact one day. He didn’t put faith in that.

  Nobody else in the room seemed to want to blink; Tiria still didn’t have control over herself, but her eyes blinked of their own accord. The Master gave Tiria a cautious stare. “Why?”

  “Because things far, far larger than any few countries are in motion. An apocalypse, worse than the Storm of three hundred years ago, which no-one in the Carpangan Chain will escape. In two years, a portal to Hell itself will emerge, and the demons from within will scour the Lands, killing or enslaving every living being here. A coordinated effort to fight these demons may yet prove fruitful… and so we must try.”

  “How could you know all this?”

  “Time is on our side. We see the future, especially the grave and terrible possibilities it may hold.”

  The Master was quiet for a while. “Can you see my future?”

  “No. To any power, there is a limit, and you are not important enough to waste it on. This vessel, meanwhile, is cheaper to acquire and maintain. Worthwhile, for an attempt at contacting you. Or, perhaps… many. This is not our first or last time speaking.” An awkwardly-orchestrated – and thus unsettling – smile spread across Tiria’s face.

  It was working. That steady expression drooped very slightly. Then, it returned to resolve and resumed frowning, thinking there was a flaw. “Then… what do you need us to do? Surely a magician of your capabilities needs no aid.”

  “We are not a magician. We are more primordial than that. Our powers are what they are, and force is not something we wield easily. Control is our way, and besides, a vast mundane army counts for more than any few spells.

  “As for what we need of you… it is unclear. You are not an army, though in the final days we will call on you to fight directly. In those times you yourself will see the demons’ fire, and there will be nothing more to prove to you. Building up military strength may be prudent. However, what we require now is subtlety, and this you have. Dissidents will need silencing and proponents will need protecting.

  “An occasional task is all we will require, and in exchange, we will lend you this vessel. She is functionally immortal; our foresight will keep her protected. Throw her to danger and she will survive. However, be warned: do not rely on our capabilities against all odds. There is a limit to how much effort we will spend on protecting her, and to furthering your goals.

  “Many seeds have been planted. This is only one. While it will be some time before they sprout, and while some will fail to pestilence and weather, with the mass of many crops we will feed this world’s survival.”

  The Master hesitated. Who wouldn’t, in this situation? And yet, he was all business; he’d certainly faced down things that could destroy him many, many times. “Prudent of you, indeed… Who are these other seeds, so we can cooperate with them?”

  The bait wasn’t taken. Of course not. “Nothing can be gleaned of your learning this other than your using that information for your own gain, and they are all more important than you are. Should we deem it fit, we will use some of those resources for your benefit, too. We may not make it obvious for the same reason. You will know what you need to know.”

  “I see.” The Master thought about this for a long time. “For now, we will have a deal. ‘Apocalypse’ or not, we will judge by what you give us, and what you demand in exchange.”

  “Good enough, then. If you should need to speak with us, then speak to this vessel. Writing and such methods are suitable, of course. She will not have contact with us – the true us – much from here on, but the effect will be the same. From vessel, there is a conduit, a delegate, and the conduit will manage her as he has thus far. We, in turn, will hear what our conduit hears.”

  The Master didn’t appreciate being routed to two middlemen, but he begrudgingly allowed it.

  This was not Aemric’s first time through these negotiations. He had been too soft on some, too rough on others, and often too truthful or too vague. In between, he had attempted to put Tiria to work fighting her way out, and steadily realized that was far more difficult.

  More guards had always been outside the door, and every exit from the building was secure with more than just manpower: this was the Red Scale headquarters, reinforced to survive explosives and massed attacks alike. There had even been things Aemric had thought were the stuff of adventure stories, like trapped hallways and automated turrets. He’d never even gotten to see those, and only knew of them because he had asked Tiria for a floorplan once.

  Even setting aside ensuring Tiria’s basic survival, he’d had other considerations: namely, future events. He rehearsed the speeches to some extent, got into character, to ensure he didn’t slip up and leave a loose thread or hint hanging. So, too, did he put some effort in ensuring Tiria would have some freedom for herself.

  Initially, he’d tried to put these two considerations together into just trying to run. Once, that had come out as a poorly-planned threat; ‘let Tiria go or I’ll destroy you’ or something of that nature, but the Red Scale demanded proof of this power, and… well. That worked the other way around, too, when he tried to convince them that he had great magical power overall and offered them a spot on his side. The Master clearly only trusted his magician and what he saw for himself, and being clear about the limited position that ‘the primordial force’ was bargaining from skipped a lot of distrust.

  The ‘primordial force’ also gave him a lot more credence. Aemric was well aware that Tiria wasn’t impressed with his… uh, formative days in figuring out the power – not that it had been long since then – and those experiences probably informed the Red Scale that they were dealing with an amateur. Which they were, but the ‘conduit’ and ‘we’ structure separated that out plausibly. Aemric was a manager, and whatever they just spoke to through Tiria was the real CEO. Making that CEO look impressive wasn’t too hard, meanwhile, since Aemric was basically just imitating movie speech.

  The demons, meanwhile? That was no lie.

  Right now, though, he had other problems that he needed to solve first before he could even think about stopping the demonic invasion.

  Perfecting all of that had taken an insane amount of re-trying, and he was presently in his dorm room. He’d considered this problem while he was still Dreaming, at least.

  There was only one thing to do: self-report and hope that bought him time. Aemric got back to his laptop, and went to the Leansville University website to find that phone number.

  Moments later, he had someone on the other end. “Hey, um, someone came by before and told me to call if I felt a magic spike in the dorms? Yeah, uh, there was a big one. I think it was nearby, too.”