#zivan margolin

[what-a-messek]

Can't believe my girl Vess only came in second smh

[wardensantoineandevka]

Astrid is not listed because she's not a minor character! Whoever replaced Vess as Archmage of Antiquity is not listed because you gotta have a name to qualify for the poll.

[hello-eeveev]

How to Rest Director's Commentary—Chapter 6

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

It’s here it’s here! The big finale!!!

This chapter is arguably my favorite of the whole fic (though choosing between them all is a bit like choosing a favorite child). It’s just so happy. It makes me so happy. It’s just so full of love, and I’m really excited to talk about it!

(spoiler warning for the entirety of How to Rest)

A couple of things happened to Caleb on the way home from the market.

Don’t ask me why I styled the opening sentence of this chapter after the Sondheim musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum; I could not tell you. I have never seen it, I don’t know what it’s about, but I did spend my teenage years obsessed enough with musical theater to have heard its name floated about and I dunno I think it’s got a nice mouthfeel.

“A message from Zivan Margolin,” [Astrid] said. “Welcome to Soltryce Academy, Professor Widogast. We look forward to working with you this fall.” She paused for a long moment before continuing, her voice softer, more sincere. “Congratulations, old friend.”

Astrid is not Margolin’s messenger, but I think she would not be completely out of the loop regarding Caleb’s hiring, what with the historic connection between Soltryce Academy and the Archmage of Civil Influence, and would be able to work her way into being the one to tell Caleb of his hiring if she wanted. And I wanted her to because 1) I love her, and 2) I like giving Astrid a little space to be human and to try to have a friendly relationship with Caleb again. I wanted her to switch off her formal voice and replace it with a more genuine one. Because she took up Ikithon’s position almost immediately after removing herself from under his thumb, it is more than likely that she is still splitting herself in two, though at least she has more control over this situation than the last. But she is trying to be more than the Volstrucker Ikithon made her, and giving Caleb some good news and congratulating him on it is part of that journey.

And I know that 25 words—only 3 of which are actually her own—are not nearly enough to explore all of that, but she has been a background player in this fic and I wanted her to make an appearance and unfortunately, every time she comes up, I have so many thoughts about her. Here’s a post about that.

Essek stood in the living room, turned away. His hand rested on the back of the couch, and the edges of his travelling cloak rustled in the sudden shift of air. He looked over his shoulder at Caleb’s entrance. The early evening light shone over his nose and hair and cheekbone, casting the edges of him in gold. He smiled.  “Hello, Caleb Widogast.”

Look at that dramatic entrance! What an image he strikes!! Handsome boy!!!

But on a functional level, this is one of those visual tropes that I like in TV and movies, and I think it aids the pacing to have a moment to slow down and take in the scene—Essek’s clothing, the time of day, how recently he arrived—before they rush at each other. It adds a little drama, builds some anticipation, it’s a good time.

Caleb always prepared Unseen Servant on market days.

One fun part of this chapter was considering what magic Caleb might use in his day-to-day, and I thought that Unseen Servant would be great for a scrawny wizard who would like to put his groceries away quickly so he can get back to nerd business. Would that I could do the same.

As they moved through the narrow spaces between table and cupboard, they nudged past each other in with soft touches to backs and hips and shoulders, the routine of it hardly a thought while they chatted about what had happened since they had seen each other last.

More often than not, How to Rest is about the little intimacies and the ways in which Essek and Caleb are growing their lives around each other. Compare how monumental every little touch was in Chapter 1 to it being a passing mention here while they catch up and do chores. There is so much love in being comfortable with another person. Even though this chapter has other bigger moments of romantic love, moments like these are not to be discounted either.

He had a house that he had lived in for over a year now. He knew the quickest path to and from the market, which he took with little variation and without fear of being followed. He had a spell he used specifically to help him put groceries away.

Much of How to Rest is also about settling in, finding and creating peace within your life, because with that comes rest, which is what Caleb and Essek have been desperately in need of for years. Not just the kind that restores spells slots, but the kind that lets you breathe and live (hi my name is eve and i live up to its meaning)

For Caleb, I think rest is found in routines and rituals, in security, and in magic both awe-inspiring and completely ordinary. So that’s what I gave him. mwah. love you, buddy. 

He knew which cupboard his oats belonged in and how to operate the Vault of Amber where he stored his milk so it wouldn’t spoil.

To the two commenters who independently needed to talk about Caleb keeping his milk in a Vault of Amber: I love you. I love you so much. It will never not make me laugh that—out of everything in this chapter—this line I wrote in about two seconds and didn’t think about again was enough to warrant two whole comments. It is genuinely so funny and delightful.

But to give you a breakdown of my thought process for this detail:

Vault of Amber has refrigeration properties.

It requires five pieces of amber that merge into one upon completion of the spell.

Bruh, can you imagine a refrigerator the size of a pebble???

His heart swelled with an emotion too big to breathe around. It was warm and light, and it ached, insisting that any distance from Essek was too far apart. Just in the other room wasn’t close enough; Caleb wanted to be near him for as long as their scant few hours would allow, to hold him and enjoy his company until he vanished into thin air once more.

Even though Caleb has accepted and made peace with their weird long distance relationship situation, it doesn’t fully remove the longing that comes with being apart or the intensity of the reuniting. And right now, Caleb is having a moment of realizing that despite the brevity of his visits, Essek has incorporated Caleb’s home and life into his own and that when Caleb said he wanted it to be a home base for Essek, Essek took that to heart. To put it into words a little earlier than Caleb does, right now he is feeling how much Essek loves him and how much he loves Essek, and it’s kind of a lot.  

“Hello, dear,” he said. “Hallo.”

Me when the wizards say hi: 🥺

Caleb nodded and dropped a kiss between Essek’s eyes, delighting in the way Essek laughed and squeezed them shut. He hoisted himself up and over the back of the couch and lowered himself onto the seat beside him.

It’s fun to write some playful, unserious moments for them, too. Silliness is essential to one’s health. 

“It is well-earned. I am very happy for you. In fact, I have something for this very occasion.” He pulled away to reach into his component pouch, and with a flourish of his free hand, his arcane chest appeared at his feet. He opened it and pulled out a thick, square-shaped bundle wrapped in crepe paper and twine. He held it out to Caleb. “Here. This is for you.”

THE OUTFIT!!!! I thought harder about this outfit than I have about any outfit for anything I’ve written and probably anything I’ve drawn. Fashion is something I find very interesting when it is presented to me (Bernadette Banner’s youtube channel was one of my 2020 binges), but is not so much something I consider much of my own accord. But I wanted this outfit to have a lot of meaning. I wanted it to be built of things Essek picked up during his travels because he was thinking about him. Caleb mentioned once that he needed a new wardrobe for teaching and Essek took that on as a sidequest. I did a lot of research in Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount and on the internet to find inspiration for what each piece would look like and where in Wildemount it would come from.

I wanted the textiles to be mostly wool, cotton, and linen, but with a few silk details. More practical fabrics because they are, well, practical. And Caleb is the son of farmers. But some silk because he is allowed to be a bit fancy. Everything is of extremely high quality. It is what he deserves.

I didn’t want it to be reds, maroons, and browns because while Caleb looks great in those colors, he has plenty of them already. Something cooler would contrast nicely with the reds in his hair and bring out the blue of his eyes.

So let’s break down each piece (in order of appearance, not of purchase):

…a coat made from a dark forest green tweed and lined with silk […] and dark brown trousers of the same make as the coat.

Both of these pieces were commissioned and purchased in Yrrosa, which is a town located in a snowy part of the Zemni Fields. With this information, I figured that it isn’t a wild assumption that they might raise sheep there and use their wool for textile. While it isn’t the richest town, it doesn’t seem to be exceedingly poor either, so I imagine that Essek was able to find a good tailor with some fine tweeds to make Caleb’s coat and trousers.

…a white linen shirt with traditional Zemnian whitework embroidery on the collar and cuffs.

The shirt was the first garment Essek purchased once he got the idea. After that first date, he went down to Feolinn and bought a plain white linen shirt to be a staple in Caleb’s wardrobe. Later, whether it was through Caleb or his own travels, Essek learned of the style of whitework embroidery practiced in more rural areas of the Zemni Fields and decided to have someone embroider the shirt with that style.

There wasn’t time to describe the whitework in detail, but I was inspired by Schwalm whitework, which is a style of embroidery that originated in the early 19th century in Germany. I think it is so so beautiful and I really wanted to include it somehow. Here is an article that gives you an overview of Schwalm whitework and some examples, and here is an image of a men’s shirt that helped me place the embroidery.

…a waistcoat made of rich purple brocade.

The waistcoat is from Nicodranas. The Menagerie Coast and the Concord were not involved in the War of Ash and Light, so I imagine Essek feels a bit freer to commission something with a bit of Dynasty flair here than anywhere else. 

When Essek was in Nicodranas, I fancy the idea of him consulting with Veth (and maybe Jester if he catches her there?) about the gift, and Veth, knowing that Essek would have limited funds and always being willing to spend money on Caleb, decided to split the costs with Essek. Maybe she knows a good tailor in the city, or maybe she brought Essek to Marion to find one. Veth is probably the best chance at sneakily getting Caleb’s measurements, or at least getting them without suspicion.

I didn’t specify a design for the brocade, so nothing’s set in stone, but I think it could be fun if there were some geometric elements to it. Or even if it had the more naturalistic patterns most brocades seem to have, they could be grouped in a way that evokes a pentagonal shape, like the face of a dodecahedron. 

…a set of bronze cufflinks with an intricately carved dodecahedron on each face. […] Caleb held it up to the light, and as he turned it, the metal suddenly seemed to turn purple and a rainbow of colors shimmered across its surface, like oil on top of water. He rolled the cufflink between his fingers and watched as the color shifted—gold to purple, purple to gold.

Gwardan, my beloved! An elvish city in a temperate area near the mountains and not far from the ocean with a unique and beautiful artistic tradition!! I need to go there!!!

I took some liberty with the description of steamcast metal, as it is only described as having a ‘prismatic shimmer’ and I needed more detail for how close and intimate the narration is during this section. So I thought about prisms refracting light and creating rainbows, then about rainbows in oil slicks and how metal reflects light and color and lenticular prints and iridescence. Then I decided on bronze because I think it’s a beautiful metal and purple because it is the best color. 

Caleb shucked off his clothes and began changing right there in the living room. Essek shook his head and turned his gaze upwards. Caleb didn’t care if Essek saw him in his smallclothes, but he wouldn’t begrudge him his sense of modesty. 

Essek is not embarrassed, per se. He would have had to get over that pretty quick during their wizards’ Aeor trip, what with close quarters, infrequent privacy, and relying on each other for medical care. It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before. 

But like, there’s a time and a place for getting undressed, and Essek doesn’t consider the middle of the living room one of them. And even if it were, what else is he supposed to do with his eyes? Close them? Stare? Awkward. 

Essek was still paying attention; once Caleb had put on his new trousers and buttoned his shirt up halfway, Essek moved in front of him and placed his hands in the path of Caleb’s. Instead of moving on to the next button, Caleb’s hands alighted on Essek’s wrists and followed them up as Essek deftly and delicately fastened each button. He turned the collar down and smoothed the fabric over Caleb’s shoulders and down his arms, then took Caleb’s hands and lifted them to chest level. He tapped his index finger against the back of Caleb’s hand, and a box floated between them.

Bruh 🥺

The closeness and the intimacy. This section is almost the entire reason for the non-sexual intimacy tag because it’s just so��

It’s not what I think of as obviously romantic, but that’s what makes it romantic. If that makes sense? Maybe it’s not even romantic at all. It’s just comfortable. Content. Caring. But it’s still intense and meaningful, even if it doesn’t have the same heart-pounding excitement of their early relationship. 

I have always loved the way writers, romance writers in particular, are able to slow down scenes and convey that feeling of tunnel vision that comes when you’re near someone you like. There has to be an attention to detail and a keen visualization that can be hard to achieve sometimes. You can’t fudge things or handwave them away like you might when the narration is quicker or more distant. Everything must feel deliberate but natural. It’s not always easy, but when it’s pulled off, it’s great. I’m very proud of the writing I did here. 

“In the winter maybe, when the semester is over, we can go and celebrate. If it is safe for you, of course.” Essek pressed a kiss to Caleb’s cheek. “I shall plan on it.”

Caleb is hedging around making a definitive plan, worried about pressuring Essek on accident and not wanting to set himself up for disappointment. But Essek is fully ready to make a plan because he knows where he’s going to be come winter and he’s dropping a little hint as to what his news might be (but Caleb doesn’t have any context for this and misses it.) 

but I didn’t miss it >:)

readers, you must know that every time I do a little foreshadowing or allusion or implication, I am tapping my fingertips together and ehehe-ing like the least threatening cartoon villain. this is enrichment for me. 

Caleb turned around and took a step back, holding his arms away from his sides to show off the whole outfit.

Modeling is a skill that Caleb does not possess. 

Essek looked him over from head to toe, his mouth pressed into a line as he considered. When his eyes met Caleb’s again, his expression softened, and Caleb caught a glimpse of his lower lip caught against a sharp tooth. “You look very beautiful.��� Caleb’s breath caught, and heat crept from beneath his collar all the way up to his cheeks. He cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment to regain his composure.

Caleb was asking how the outfit looked on him, but instead Essek compliments his whole self, and it’s so unexpected and so flattering that Caleb bluescreens a little bit.

And if I am remembering correctly, this is the first time either of them have outwardly called the other beautiful, or any compliment of the like, even though they have thought it often. Essek has implied it, by complimenting his outfit in Chapter 1 and his hair and eyes in Chapter 3, but now he’s saying it directly and without shame. I don’t think Caleb is necessarily cognizant of of all that, but he has a subconscious understanding and definitely feels its impact. 

“Archmage Becke has insinuated to me that Ludinus has become engaged in a new project that has diverted his attention away from me entirely.”

This is great news for Essek! Bad news for Exandria because Ludinus decided that the moon and killing the gods was more important than his former co-conspirator who’s hardly shown his face in the last two years. 

I’m not sure if the timing works out (based on the little bit of digging I did just now, it doesn’t seem to), but I like to think that this is when Liliana showed up to the Ruby Vanguard and Ludinus’s plans really started to take shape. Uh-oh!

“For the time being, if I am careful, I am a free man. And I’ve grown rather tired of running from place to place.”

Essek: I’m tired. 

The Avatar: The Last Airbender super fan sleeper agent in my head, activated: THEN YOU SHOULD REST. A MAN NEEDS HIS REST.

“So…” He trailed off, his eyes searching Caleb’s—eager still, but brimming with an unspoken question. “If you will have me, I would like to spend the time I have here. With you.”

Essek is excited and he knows Caleb will be excited, which is why he feels comfortable showing up unannounced with the intention to stay, but he is still exercising caution. He’s trying to gauge if this is still something Caleb wants now that he is presented with the reality of it. It is. He’s not guaranteeing that forever is a sure thing, but for now, for as long as possible, he can be here. 

His vision was fixed on Essek, here in the living room with his back to the front door, as if he had just come home after a long day, and Caleb was sent reeling with the realization that maybe he had.

That’s right, a visual framing in this written medium!!! Positioning the POV so that the front door is behind Essek to reinforce the idea that he has come home. 

“Welcome home, Essek.” Essek’s eyes glistened. “It is good to be home, Caleb Widogast.”

HE’S HOME. THEY'RE HOME. TOGETHER! WITH EACH OTHER!!! I AM PUNCHING THE WALLS!!!

“I love you,” Essek said. “I hope you know that.” Caleb stilled. It was a held breath, finally released. The resolution of a chord.  I love you.  An expected ending—the natural transition into the next refrain, but no less beautiful for it.  I love you.

I love a music metaphor. I love music! You know when there’s a chord or a progression that has tension and you can hear how that should resolve? And then it does? That’s good stuff. And I thought it would be a good comparison to the feeling in this scene. As I said when I discussed Essek’s “oh” moment last chapter, I never intended for love to take either of them by surprise, but even so, it doesn’t lessen the impact of the realization. Good music can feel a lot like that. Like, of course that makes sense to the ear, but you still get chills or you gotta move your body because it resonates. Big fan of resonance. As a physical concept and as an emotional one. 

The feeling had lain dormant for so long, but now, acknowledged and given a name, it bloomed throughout Caleb’s entire body and reached for the light that was Essek. He followed it forward, nuzzling Essek’s cheek, catching the corner of Essek’s lips with his own. “I love you,” he murmured. Essek leaned into the touch. “And I love you.”

Caleb has loved Essek for a while now, but naming it and expressing it—and knowing that it is returned—he experiences it with more clarity. It’s not necessarily of a greater intensity than the moment near the start of the chapter, but it is a different experience of it. Instead of a longing ache or a yearning, he is filled with elation because Essek is in love with him and he is in love with Essek. He knows this now, and when he reaches for him, Essek will be there.

Essek was silent, his face still in a way that usually meant he was working through some new emotion. It occurred to Caleb that this was perhaps the first place Essek had had of his own, to do with as he pleased, since his towers in Rosohna. He stepped beside Essek and placed a hand between his shoulder blades. Essek took a deep breath. “This is wonderful, Caleb. Thank you.”

My purpose in giving Essek his own room as opposed to sharing with Caleb was initially to keep continuity with On the Nature of Attraction, yes, but then I had to think about why I made that choice in the first place, and it’s more than just narrative convenience. Essek is a known introvert, and in my experience as an introvert (with a generous helping of neurodivergence that I dump onto Essek without specificity), having a place I can retreat to where I can decompress without the presence of other people, even people whom I like immensely, is beneficial to my health and well-being. I’m sure Caleb enjoys that privacy and would want Essek to have it as well. 

Essek has been travelling from place to place for the better part of the last year, and prior to that, he was in charge of a very small outpost in the middle of nowhere. The lack of a place for himself and to himself is destabilizing. And with the fact that he must keep his identity secret everywhere he goes, there is a lot of importance in having a space that is not just where he can be alone, but that is representative of himself as well. I think that is key in making the house feel like Essek’s home too, not just Caleb’s. 

“It is no Tower, but it is permanent, and it is safe, and it is yours.”

I decided against the Tower making an appearance in this last chapter for several reasons. First, there is the practical: a room being reliant on you casting a 7th level spell every day will be inconsistent. The Tower is a luxury that I’m sure Caleb uses often, but there may very well be days where he uses up his high level spell slots or wants to save them for emergencies and in those cases, it is worth it to have a real, physical space that he is comfortable in. This leads me to the second reason, which is that part of the point of Essek creating a home here is for consistency and the security that comes with that. Can he have that if he is relying on Caleb to create and design his space on a daily basis?

“Are you tutoring tomorrow?” “I am.” A pit formed in his stomach.  “But you have only just gotten here. I can reschedule it, if you’d like.” Essek shook his head. “No need. I will be here when you return.”

Here, that instinct to make Essek the absolute number one priority, to the detriment of everything else, crops up, an understandable reaction to Essek popping in without much notice or time to spare. But that’s not the case anymore. Caleb will see Essek when he wakes tomorrow and when comes home after work. And the same will happen tomorrow, and for as many days as they are able. 

At the end of the hall, before splitting off into their separate rooms, they stopped. It was a scene that had played out dozens of times before, but now—instead of the pats on arms and short hugs of Aeor, or the bittersweet goodbyes before an indefinite separation—Caleb took Essek by the hand and pulled him close.

And here we are, bringing this story to a close by bringing it full circle. It is another parting, yes, but the angst of previous partings is gone. The separation is only a few feet and a couple hours. Lingering at the doorway is an indulgence they can freely partake in, without awkwardness or anxiety. They will go to bed and rest, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow, they will wake in a house that is theirs, where the person they love resides. 

asldfaslkdjfljskdfjlk How to Rest, my most dearly beloved! It has been such a joy to work on over the last year and a half, and I’m just… really proud of it. I had to talk about it because writing and wizards excite me and I wanted to share that excitement.

Thank you all who have read the fic and read the commentaries. I hope it’s been a fun journey for you as well!

[astrid-beck]

In case u were worried about ur awkward coworker situation here are some fun facts about the cerberus assembly:

the archmage of conscription (zivan margolin) is also the headmaster of the soltryce academy, and has been for 20 years

the archmage of conscription was in charge of finding academy students to draft into the child soldier training program

astrid becke was drafted into the child soldier training program less than 20 years ago

astrid becke is now also on the cerberus assembly

[tunedtostatic]

A year after the defeat of Trent Ikithon, Astrid and Eadwulf are settling into their lives as Eadwulf works helping other former scourgers and Astrid contends with her fellow archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. But when Wulf's voyage to a white stone city across the sea leads to a method for the safe removal of residuum--and the powers it bequeaths--and Astrid's plans put her at odds with the headmaster who sent them to Ikithon two decades before, both have choices to make about their magic and their future.

--

Astrid Beck/Eadwulf Grieve, Eadwulf Grieve & Cassandra de Rolo, Astrid Beck & Cerberus Assembly, Astrid Beck & Marion Lavorre, Astrid Beck & Eadwulf Grieve & Beauregard Lionett, Astrid Beck, Eadwulf Grieve, Cassandra de Rolo, Percy de Rolo, Marion Lavorre, Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss, Yasha Nydoorin, Beauregard Lionett, Owelia (Critical Role), Unnamed Human Scourger (Episode c2e070), Ludinus Da'Leth, Zivan Margolin, Other(s)

Shadow Magic (Dungeons & Dragons), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Angst, Death, Suicide, Grief, Combat, Gore, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Additional Warnings in Author's Notes, intramural sports jock Eadwulf, if you want emotional conversations but also 2k of Astrid 4vs1 high-level wizard battle you are the target audience for this, Glyph Chant, Bioluminescence, neither a recovery arc nor a corruption arc but another secret third thing

[quinn-of-aebradore]

Astrid's the head of a school now, I wouldn't think she'd be hiding?

She isn’t, that’s the job of a different Archmage, Zivan Margolin. Her exact responsibilities are unknown to us. Also, I might’ve missed something but I think that the Empire has ousted the Assembly??? The power structure is in Shambles, regardless.

[aquastranger]

#astrid speedrunning her shiv roy era while eadwulf leaves captured assembly wizards on caleb's doorstep like a cat showing off its dead mice#caleb isn't actually at home because he's breaking into zivan margolin's office to forge his signature on curriculum changes#fortunately he has a partner with disguise self who can teach his classes and provide him with some sort of alibi#while he and beau are taking advantage of succession season 5 rexxentrum edition to break into every assembly member's office#critical role

I would give an arm and a leg to witness the infighting and attempted power grabs currently going on in the Cerberus Assembly. Big boss just fucked off to the moon your society is in an unprecedented magical catastrophe but you are an evil wizard so this means it’s really just an opportunity for you. Necks are getting bitten out towers are getting broken into walls of force are being put up. It’s like arcane Succession in there. Hubris city. And if you’re some rare wizard at the top who isn’t in it for power (not sure that exists in this context but ok) you’re straight up having a worse time.

[your-turn-to-role]

new opinions of the cerberus assembly (etgw spoilers!!)

somewhat inspired by the conversations the other day, bc it’s reminded me i have a lot to say about these motherfuckers

let’s start with the obvious:

Master Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence (Chaotic Evil Human)

Book Text: [Trent is respected as the acclaimed Propagandist of the empire and the third oldest member of the assembly. Once an instructor at the Soltryce Academy, he only returns every few years to collect young students for his experiments in the mental conditioning that he calls “awakening.” Many of these students go mad and are locked away, but those who endure become zealots for the assembly and join the Volstrucker, an elite group of arcane thugs commonly known as Scourgers, who perform the assembly’s dirtiest work under Trent’s direction.]

Most of this we knew. I hate this guy. Though, as a point of interest - Caleb’s for sure not the first person this has happened to. They account for a certain number of aspiring Volstrucker never completing the program, Caleb was just another statistic. Which means somewhere in Vergessen is a lot of other people with the same backstory who never managed to escape. That’s, something worth looking into, maybe.

Martinet Ludinus Da’leth, Archmage of Domestic Protections (Lawful Evil Elf)

[Ludinus is the oldest and only original member of the assembly, as well as the master of warfare and conflict. Charged with overhauling the military structure of the Dwendalian Empire, Ludinus directed the construction of the garrisons on the Xhorhasian border and often oversees their maintenance. He was one of the mages who survived the destruction of Molaesmyr and fled to Bysaes Tyl, but he saw the opportunity to achieve greatness within the empire and left his culture behind to continue his arcane pursuits. Wise, if emotionless, he bears a deep hatred for the Kryn Dynasty and spares no effort gathering information on their weaknesses and secrets. Ludinus spends most of his time developing arcane weapons of war and shoring up the military might of the empire, while subtly challenging the leadership of Crown Marshal Damurag.]

This guy’s old. That's the scariest thing about him really. Like, this guy's been in the empire since it was half its current size. This guy saw the destruction of Molaesmyr, and knew many of its residents. But he also rejected that society, purely for his own ends. He's at least 400 years old, more likely at least 500, and for the past 3-4 centuries has been focusing entirely on magic and warfare. That's a long time to hone those skills. Ludinus may say it's hard to compare power in the Assembly, but if I had to pick one of them for an end game boss, it would be him, no question. Trent's more of a wild card, sure, but he's only like 60, 70 years old. He's a baby compared to Da'leth. Keep an eye on this dude, and under no circumstances trust him.

Lady Vess de Rogna, Archmage of Antiquity (Neutral Evil Half-Elf)

[A public recluse for most of her life, Vess is both a brilliant mage and dedicated historian. She assumed this post after replacing her criminal predecessor, Lady Delilah Briarwood. As an instructor at the Soltryce Academy for over two decades, Vess has studied and unraveled a number of historical mysteries and pre-Calamity riddles — and hoarded some of the spoils for herself. Always eager to pursue forgotten lore and artifacts of eons past, Vess has been known to quietly vanish to Xhorhas for weeks at a time, returning with fewer guards and more uncovered secrets.]

Canon confirmation that this is who took over from Delilah Briarwood, and from what we’ve seen, they’re rather similar people. They're both scientists and historians, ruthlessly efficient, far more concerned with what they can learn and what they can do than what's good or safe for those around them. Liable to be found breaking the law in the name of science and progress. At least Vess has lasted longer than her predecessor.

Headmaster Oremid Hass, Archmage of Cultivation (Lawful Neutral Earth Genasi)

[The current headmaster of the Hall of Erudition in Zadash, Oremid is tasked with watching and grooming the next generation of mages and arcane specialists outside Rexxentrum. While he himself is a gentle soul who adores animals, he puts on the façade of a strict man with no sense of humor, which is further enhanced by the elemental influence of his earth genasi blood. He teaches students that failure is not an option, and that emotion is a barrier to one’s true ability. Equally feared, respected, and privately loathed by the students (and some instructors), Oremid personally dismisses those who break under his school’s curriculum and heaps joyous praise on those who endure their training.]

So, I've had teachers like this. And they stick in your mind, because, even a decade later, I still have a hard time getting over their instilled fear of failure. I can believe that, in general terms, Oremid's not a terrible person. I think he looks the other way on a lot of things, which precludes him from ever qualifying as good in my books, but he hasn't committed any major acts of torture or murder himself. Still though. You don't teach like that if you view your students as people. You teach like that if you view your students as potential assets. So like.... not as bad as some of his colleagues. Potentially someone they could work with if they had to. But still probably someone to stay away from.

Headmaster Zivan Margolin, Archmage of Conscription (Lawful Neutral Human)

[Zivan Margolin inherited the position of headmaster from his father, the late Jorma Margolin. Zivan has been the headmaster of the Soltryce Academy in Rexxentrum for nearly twenty years. Calm, patient, and quietly imposing, Zivan walks the halls of the Academy with a keen eye for talent. He is in charge of the curriculum and also watches for any latent powers that may be worth grooming as future allies of the assembly, dangers to be monitored, or prospective minds for Ikithon to conscribe into the Volstrucker. Zivan has rarely had the opportunity to demonstrate his full power, for he is typically busied with keeping the peace between the feuding members of the assembly. Those who have witnessed his true might, however, now know that his words are backed by some of the most powerful magics within the Cerberus Assembly.]

I think @lostsometime said it best, having the archmage of conscription be in charge of your elite magic school really sums up everything wrong with the empire. Like, if that's out in the open, your problems are unfixable. Get a new government. Jeez.

Master Doolan Tversky, Archmage of Dysology (Chaotic Neutral Gnome)

[The second-oldest member of the assembly, Doolan is in charge of the study and understanding of abnormal creatures and deviants of arcane creation that might threaten the empire’s way of life. She is an absentminded yet brilliant gnome who is obsessed with all beasts, aberrations, and creatures of legend. Doolan imports creatures from around the world to study, disassemble, and use in her attempts to revolutionize magical practices. She resents the Library of the Cobalt Soul, as her reputation has caused them to bar her from their facilities. She wishes to catalog the unstudied horrors of Xhorhas and has covertly obtained the services of the Myriad to retrieve new specimens.]

Now, Doolan is fascinating to me, not because I think she's a good person, but because she's just so delightfully weird. She's probably done some evil as fuck shit but she's also a gremlin of a gnome who loves weird fucked up arcane experiments and magical meteors that created eldritch ducks and all sorts of bizarre things like that. I'd love to see more of her, because there's always room in fantasy stories for more weird morally ambiguous old ladies who are banned from libraries on the grounds of "is about as likely to eat the books as she is to read them" and "last time we let her in here she somehow combined five forbidden rituals and created a new species of demon that haunts the halls of the rexxentrum archive spreading toxic slime everywhere and we can't figure out what it wants or how to make it go away".

Lord Athesias Uludan, Archmage of Diplomatic Union (Neutral Good Human)

[Athesias’s charm and bombastic personality serve him well as a diplomat. His duty is to foster a positive relationship with people of power both within and beyond the borders of the empire. He was originally one of the most effective instructors at the Soltryce Academy, but his penchant for spectacle and his rampant narcissism made him a difficult ally to trust with state secrets. When the office of Diplomatic Union opened, he was quickly and quietly reassigned. Athesias finds great pleasure in ruining or usurping the plans of his counterpart in the Crown’s employ, Emissary Lord Zeddan Graf.]

We’ve talked a bit about Uludan already - the Gilderoy Lockhart of the group for sure. Though I’m sure he has layers to him, so I’d be interested to find out what exactly they are.

And, saving the most interesting for last,

Baroness Jenna Iresor, Archmage of Industry (True Neutral Doppelganger)

[One of the younger members of the assembly, Jenna is known for her business acumen and her extravagant lifestyle. By hiding her nature as a doppelganger and using memory-altering magics at a young age to fabricate a false past, Jenna constructed her human persona from the ground up, leveraging her powers of deception to essentially write herself into history as a Clovis Concord expatriate. She helps oversee central guild business in Rexxentrum under Guildmaster Kai Arness, and helps Exchequer Aethia Drooze organize the collection of tithes through starostas across the empire.]

I am, insanely curious about how a doppelganger ended up in the Cerberus Assembly. She’s definitely ambitious for sure, doppelgangers already have a fair bit of innate magic - they’re natural shapeshifters and have a fair amount of psychic powers (like reading minds of anyone who happens to be near them), but to get here she had to be extremely committed. Which means she probably has plans for this position, or had plans that she’s already put into motion. Very interested what those are, especially for the archmage of industry.

[wizardfvcker]

me, who isn’t even actively into cr anymore: matt i will pay you 30€ if you give me some information on the rest of the members of the cerberus assembly that we still know nothing about. please. im begging you

[utilitycaster]

Regarding what you said about wanting the CR cast to run a one-shot where they play the Cerberus Assembly, which cast member would you want to play which Assembly member?

I answered it here ; for those who don't want to click a link:

Laura as Vess deRogna (can do the accent, can play evil)

Liam as Oremid Hass (cat wizard part deux)

Travis as Ludinus Da'leth (gets to be affably evil but also tiredly run a board meeting, the duality of man)

Sam as Athesias Uludan (the similarities to Tary cannot be denied)

Marisha as Jenna Iresor (could handle the weird mechanics of a doppleganger, international woman of mystery)

Ashley as Doolan Tversky (I want Ashley to play a crotchety old person again like in the Nightmare before Critmas one-shot)

Taliesin as Zivan Margolin (I do not know what Zivan's deal is. Might be evil, might be a pawn, 100% want to see Taliesin do something wild with it.)

If this is post-C2 then Laura plays Oremid and Liam plays Astrid.

[strwpup]

im just thinking about astrid waking up. getting ready. making a strong coffee. heading into the CA headquarters. hi martinet ludinus da'leth, who has not been here in weeks because he is fucking with the moon. hi archmage pumat sol. hi archmage pumat sol. hi archmage pumat sol. hi archmage pumat sol. hello headmaster zivan margolin, the man who sent me to the man that ruined my life. hi headmaster oremid hass how did you sneak a squirrel in here. hello master doolan tversky are you doing okay cataloging unstudied horrors. hi althesias you are. fine. hi jenna you're the only bitch in here i respect

so a friend and i were talking about who the current archmage of antiquities must be over in the CA

and she said, well, it would be vess's annex, right?

and i started searching the wiki for every known annex, and i started looking through the transcripts, and i learned that only three annexes have ever been mentioned by name. zana deelio (da'leth's annex), vence nuthaleus (former da'leth annex).

and motherfucking enchater pumat sol.

now im not saying this is cannon, but, pumat sol is an annex of the cerberus assembly and his contact was vess. and the wiki states that annexes are directly beneath the eight chief mages of the CA.

i cannot prove myself right but ALSO im not sure it can be proven wrong. so,

[astridbecks]

Technically the fifth installment in this series, but like… a month late. Hope y’all wanted some 4D-chess-playing Archmage Astrid Beck content? 

Also on AO3.

— — —

Disguise Self (1st-level illusion) Range: Self Duration: 1 hour 

You make yourself—including your clothing, armor, weapons, and other belongings on your person—look different until the spell ends or until you use your action to dismiss it. 

— — —

The headmaster’s office sits at the top of the tallest tower on the grounds of the Soltryce Academy. From the tower entrance to the paneled mahogany door, there are three hundred and twenty eight stone stairs. The sole purpose of this seems to be to inflict a sense of mounting anticipation on anyone summoned to speak with the Archmage of Conscription, from student to professor to fellow archmage. 

Astrid stands on the first landing and contemplates the paperwork she abandoned five minutes ago (low priority), the likelihood that this visit will earn her the Martinet’s censure if word of it reaches him (moderate priority), and the value of a well-timed entrance (high priority). Then she casts Dimension Door, bypassing the next three hundred and seven stairs in favor of appearing directly outside the headmaster’s office. 

She lifts her hand and gives a brisk knock. 

“Enter,” a voice calls from within.

Astrid pushes the door open. The office is much as she remembers it from her days as a student — the books on the shelves arranged differently, perhaps; the curtains slightly sun-faded. The area rug is new, a thickly woven and expensive-looking piece of Marquesian design. The rest, though, hasn’t changed. A desk nearly as wide as Astrid is tall, ornamented with mother-of-pearl. A shimmering illusion of the Soltryce Academy seal on the wall behind the desk. A window on the far wall that looks out across the campus, making Zivan’s usually metaphorical preoccupation with oversight entirely literal. Even the air smells the same: aged parchment, bitter incense, a nearly imperceptible hint of ozone. 

Zivan Margolin sits behind the desk, hands folded and deep blue robes immaculate. His stern expression falters somewhat as he takes in her presence, but he recovers quickly enough to say, “Ah, Archmage Beck. You are… not who I was expecting.”

Astrid raises an eyebrow. “Oh, indeed?” 

“Yes, I have a meeting—” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Very soon, in fact.” 

“In that case, I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” 

She steps inside before he can object. Arcane static ripples across the back of her neck as the ward on the door registers her illusion spell. Zivan half-rises from his seat, faint alarm flickering across his face. He opens his mouth — probably to accuse her of being an imposter disguised as a Cerberus Assembly archmage — and Astrid holds up a hand in insincere apology and drops Disguise Self. 

Her illusory robes fade to reveal what she wears beneath — clothing that she hasn’t had occasion to wear in a few years, but that still fits her like a second skin. Black, combat-ready. She usually makes a point of having the sleeves of her robes tailored to alternately show or hide the maze of tattoos on her arms depending on the message she wants to send that day, but here there is no pretense. The sleeves are rolled up, the black ink displayed in much the same way a bare blade might be. If the Volstrucker had a uniform, this would have been it. 

Zivan’s face goes several shades paler as he sits back down, eyes tracking Astrid as she crosses the room. The thick, expensive carpet renders her steps whisper-silent. 

He clears his throat, managing to regain his composure. “As I said, I do have a meeting.” 

“Don’t worry, Headmaster. I can be patient.” She leans with calculated nonchalance against a bookshelf, pretending to peruse the titles, and settles in to wait. 

It’s not long before there’s another knock at the door — five minutes, maybe less. She’s cut it closer than she’d like. Another few minutes of making Zivan squirm would have been preferable. 

With a far less imperious tone than before, Zivan calls, “Yes, come in.”

The door opens. Caleb steps through, still in his professorial robes with a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck as though he’d decided to stop by the headmaster’s office on his way home. The scarf is a soft lavender-gray silk, not exactly Caleb’s usual style and unlikely to offer much protection against the mid-autumn chill. He gives Zivan a respectful nod, then glances at Astrid, brow furrowing in a subtle question. Astrid, of course, does not respond. She’s better trained than that. 

Caleb huffs once — amusement or irritation, hard to tell — and says, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Headmaster.” 

“No, not at all,” Zivan reassures him. “Archmage Beck’s visit was… unscheduled.” He gestures to the high-backed chair in front of his desk. The seat is a few inches shorter than the one he himself sits in, which is an intimidation tactic that likely works very well on children and much less well on former Scourgers. 

Caleb remains standing, folding his hands behind his back. His stance shifts ever so slightly — shoulders squared, chin lifted. 

Zivan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t insist. “I assume you know why I’ve called you here.” 

“Nein, I have no idea.” 

“Really? I’ve received several complaints from students about the… tone of some of your class discussions, Professor Widogast.” 

Caleb frowns, looking convincingly concerned for a moment. “My students know that if a topic of discussion makes them uncomfortable, they are welcome to take a moment to step away free of judgment and discuss the matter with me later if they wish to. That is something I stress on the very first day of class.” 

“You misunderstand,” Zivan starts to say, then trails off as Astrid draws a small dagger and begins to clean under her nails with the tip. 

Caleb’s gaze briefly flicks to her, and this time she does let the corner of her mouth quirk, acknowledging the truly amateurish tactic. The more embarrassing part — for Zivan, anyway — is that it’s working, if the look on his face is any indication.

“What am I misunderstanding, Headmaster?” Caleb asks mildly. 

Zivan clears his throat, apparently switching tactics. “I will be frank. I do not think that political rhetoric belongs in a lecture about transmutative theory.” 

“Ah,” Caleb says. “But introductory courses should provide a wide base of knowledge to students, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Some of your comments have allegedly strayed towards sentiments that could be considered treasonous,” Zivan says acerbically, then makes the mistake of looking at Astrid again. Astrid, who has shifted to balancing her knife point-first on top of one of the bookshelves and slowly spinning the blade, looks back impassively.

“If you’re referring to my most recent classes,” Caleb says, “the discussion was one of ethics. I do not find that treasonous — do you?”

“Young students have impressionable minds,” Zivan says, smoothly sidestepping the bait. He’s avoiding glancing at Astrid now. “I would hate for them to be set down the wrong path because of a careless word from a popular professor.”

Caleb’s voice drops into quiet intensity. “I assure you, the last thing I want to do is cause harm to any of my students at such a formative point in their lives.” 

Astrid watches the light play off her blade as she rotates it once, twice in the pause that follows. She doesn’t need to look at Caleb’s face to know what sort of raw emotion is burning in his eyes.

In the periphery of her vision, she watches Zivan’s posture tighten. “Consider this a warning, then. I do not wish to have this conversation with you again. Please be… mindful.” 

“I certainly will.” Caleb’s voice is remarkably even given how tightly his hands are knotted together behind his back. 

“You may leave, Professor Widogast.” 

Caleb gives a stiff nod and exits the room. 

Silence settles heavily over the office. Astrid stops spinning her blade but keeps it balanced with a single finger as she looks to Zivan. Zivan, for his part, has not relaxed in the slightest. He’s watching her with a wariness usually reserved for large predators. Attacking a fellow archmage would be an inefficient way of signing her own death sentence, and they both know she should be too sensible to outright threaten such a thing — aloud, at least. But there’s a fracture of uncertainty across Zivan’s patient mask. He knows better than most what the Volstrucker were. He can guess at the sorts of violence she’s capable of. Astrid has worked hard to be taken seriously as an archmage in her own right, instead of as Trent’s best-trained attack dog who happened to fight her way to the top of the pack, but when it is in her interest, she can allow her own mask to slip.

The silence stretches, lingers painfully. Zivan breaks first, of course. “Is there something you need from me, Archmage?” 

“Hm.” Astrid tilts her head, pretending to consider the question. “You know, I don’t believe there is.” She flips her dagger into her palm, tip pointed to the floor, and indulges for just a moment in a fantasy of burying it in his throat. The bloodstains would never come out of his expensive rug. 

Anger flickers briefly across his face. “Then what, exactly, was this a demonstration of?”

“It was more of a courtesy call, truthfully.” 

“I will not stand for—“

“I would never expect you to stand for anything, Headmaster.” She sheathes her dagger in a single abrupt motion. Zivan flinches, then tries to pretend he didn’t.

Old habits die hard. Old fears die harder. Somewhere deep beneath the Headmaster’s placating smile, he is terrified that one of his old mistakes will someday stab him in his sleep. 

Or, indeed, in his office.

Astrid smiles. It’s sharp and nearly feral, and Zivan looks away as she says, “Lovely as always to talk with you.” 

With a gesture and a murmured word, she recasts her illusion. Her robes settle around her once more in an insubstantial swirl of scarlet, like blood into water.

:::

Astrid decides to take the stairs this time and is unsurprised to find Caleb waiting for her three landings down. He’s staring out the window, the late afternoon sunlight through the thick glass casting hazy shadows across his face as he fiddles with the hem of his scarf. 

“That was a very quick meeting,” he says. 

“Mm. It was unscheduled.” 

“Yours may have been. Mine less so — I have been expecting a summons from him for about a week. He always gets antsy during my unit on ethics, and this semester’s class is a bit more… bold.” Caleb turns to give her a penetrating stare. She does not look away until he adds, “When did you get word that he planned to accuse me of sedition?”

About twenty minutes ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. She almost wants to retort that he shouldn’t assume that everything is about him, but in this specific instance that would be too easy to refute. “It wasn’t a full accusation. He was just testing the waters.”

“I suppose your presence made sure that that was as far as it went this time.”

Astrid raises an eyebrow. “I doubt that the headmaster values my opinion of your character that highly.” 

“You know what I mean.”

She does, and she’s not taking the bait. Instead, she says, “‘The only sources of institutionalized magical education within the Empire should not be governed by a single political entity,’ hm?”

It’s a direct quote from one of Caleb’s most recent lectures. He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s the truth.”

Astrid slips into Zemnian to say, “I didn’t say you were wrong.” They’ve skirted around that topic before, themselves — she’d offered him an annex position when he kept questioning her drafted reforms to the Volstrucker program, and he’d refused on the basis of not wanting to mix his professorship with direct employment by an archmage. (Never mind that Zivan is technically his current employer. Caleb insists that it’s different, and — well, she can’t say he’s wrong there, either.) 

“I have nothing to hide from the Headmaster or anyone else on the Assembly,” Caleb replies in the same language — ironic, and also a blatant lie. 

Coolly: “I’d hope not, with the risks you take. In the future, could you possibly schedule your lightly treasonous lectures at less inconvenient times?”

He huffs again, this time unmistakably in amusement. “My apologies for not being more considerate of your schedule, Archmage.” 

“Apology accepted.”

A pause. Caleb’s gaze slips away again, through the window to the courtyard below. “Astrid?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.” His voice is too soft, almost unfairly so. She catches the minute tremble in his hands, the way he stops rubbing the edge of the delicate scarf between his fingers and instead folds them together as though to avoid doing something else with them. With his perfect memory, stepping into that office is probably even more disorienting than it is for her. She’s never asked him how he can stand walking the halls of this school when every classroom, every stairwell is layered with memories. 

Astrid follows his gaze out the window. In the courtyard, students — children — are gathered in pairs or small groups, taking advantage of the autumn sunlight to study outside despite the cold air. 

Young students have impressionable minds. As though Zivan had never written their names on a list and handed it to Ikithon, knowing what fate he was consigning them to. Astrid had been fifteen; Bren and Eadwulf had been fourteen. They were young. They had impressionable minds.

“I won’t accept your gratitude,” she tells Caleb.

He looks at her. “Why not?”

This wasn’t a favor Astrid had paid him. Even absent the constant calculus of being an archmage of the Cerberus Assembly, where playing the part of a barely-leashed attack dog in Zivan’s office has its occasional place, she doesn’t want Caleb in her debt. She is a bit resentful of the fact that he won’t even offer to be in her debt, even if she would refuse it. But she knows why, as he must know why she protected him today. They’ll never fully trust each other again, but they’ve rebuilt something like understanding over the past three years. 

Astrid tries to pretend that looking at him doesn’t still hurt sometimes. Regret is a familiar ghost, one that’s haunted her for decades, but it always finds unexpected ways to sink its teeth in. Today, it’s the way the sun through the window catches the copper in Caleb’s hair, crowning him in soft flame, lending a golden tint to the violet-smoke scarf sitting light as a lover’s touch around his throat. 

“I doubt you’ll be changing anything about your syllabus just to suit my schedule,” she says, which isn’t really an answer to his question. 

She sees the moment Caleb decides to have mercy on her and let the subject go. He reaches out and lays a gentle, tentative hand on her arm, touch passing through the illusory sleeve of her robe to land on bare skin. “Well. Not for the Archmage of Civil Influence, but maybe for an old friend, I could make some allowances.”

His hand is warm where it rests lightly over her tattoos and scars. You don’t need to do that, she thinks, suddenly tired. There’s no need to persuade her, no hurt feelings he can soothe. 

Astrid sighs. “Be more careful, Caleb.”

“Hm. I’ll take that under consideration.”

Another blatant lie, but one she’ll do him the courtesy of not pointing out. She steps back, slipping free from his grasp, and begins to weave the somatic components for a Teleport. 

Caleb gives her a small, soft smile. “Auf Wiedersehen, Astrid.” 

 :::

When Astrid returns to her tower, Eadwulf takes one look at her uniform and barks a laugh. “Who did you need to scare the shit out of today?”  

Astrid considers deflecting before giving in with a lazy shrug.  “Headmaster Margolin.”

She kicks off her shoes, leaving them in the entry hall, and stalks over to where Eadwulf has draped himself across a couch. He puts the book he’d been reading face-down on the end table as she perches on the arm of the couch next to him, propping her chin in one hand and narrowing her eyes at nothing in particular. 

“Sounds fun. What was the occasion?” Eadwulf rests his cheek against her thigh to look up at her. Astrid runs her other hand idly through his bath-damp hair. He smells like cherries and vanilla, and his hand is warm as he brings it up to rest against her calf. 

She hums noncommittally. “Sometimes it’s good to remind him what his vigilance has wrought.” 

The first academic year after she was elevated to archmage, Zivan had handed her the usual list of potential candidates for the Volstrucker program. All of them were first year students — fourteen, fifteen years of age at most. She’d smiled and thanked him, then promptly set the parchment alight. The scorched palm would have been worth the look on his face even without the benefit of the message it sent without her having to say it aloud. 

Not like this. Not any longer. 

“Are you planning on making a habit of reminding him?” Eadwulf asks, leaning into her touch. 

“Only if he makes a habit of eavesdropping on lectures in search of potential treason. It is entirely his choice.” 

A pause, then: “Oh, is that who this is about.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she says primly, understanding perfectly well what he means. “I’m just making the jurisdictional lines clear. Investigations of that sort are ultimately a matter of civil influence, even when they involve Soltryce faculty.” 

“Mm. Staking out your territory?”

“Marking my claim like the hound he believes me to be.” Her hand falls still, fingers tangled in the longer hair at the nape of Eadwulf’s neck, where it always starts to curl when he hasn’t cut his hair in a while. For just a moment, she allows herself to think about the days after Trent’s death, when it had seemed so plausible that Eadwulf would spin away from her without their teacher’s inexorable gravity trapping them both in his orbit. Eadwulf had always hated politics, had never wanted an Assembly seat, and she would’ve forgiven him eventually if he’d chosen to flee to another continent rather than return to Rexxentrum with her. 

Astrid could’ve done this alone if she had to. She doesn’t think she’s ever thanked Eadwulf for not making her do that — not in as many words. But they’re both fluent in the same language of unspoken things. The games she’s playing now are more dangerous than a few implied threats against Zivan. Refraining from telling Eadwulf about them in any real depth is both a precaution for herself and a courtesy for him. 

“Anyways,” she says lightly. “If I’ve heard about it as an uninvolved party, clearly he’s mismanaging his faculty. That makes it my business.” 

Eadwulf sounds fond as he says, “I don’t want to know how many eyes and ears you’ve got at that school.” 

“No,” Astrid agrees. “You probably don’t.” 

[wardensantoineandevka]

me, suddenly: Wait, is Zivan in the Caleb Origins comic?

[adurna0-art]

Zivan Margolin, Archmage of Conscription

[saphirered]

A Decent Man (Marriage Arranged pt3.)

Summary:

As the child of an Archmage of the Cerberus Assembly your hand in marriage is offered to the Kryn Dynasty to secure a treaty. Your suitor to be is Essek Thelyss who might know more about you than he lets on…

Gathered on either side of a long table, are the speakers of the Dwendalian Empire and the Kryn Dynasty. Behind those chairs stand gathered all other officials that traveled with to show support for their side, negotiate or bring offers to the table within their jurisdiction if necessary. Both ends of the tables remain empty, two throne-like chairs unoccupied to represent the Bright Queen and King Bertrand Dwendal. You do not have a seat at the table. Your father made sure of that. You do not get to speak on your own behalf in case you compromise the Empire through your lack of experience. Still, he voiced for your attendance as a courtesy. Such a generous offer in the eyes of the court. You know he’d rather not have someone in a place of power he cannot fully trust. He  knows what you are capable of and should you suddenly find it within yourself to show that shiny spine of yours, he might be the one to stand powerless. Archmage Zivan Margolin hates nothing more than being undermined. Not even the Cerberus Assembly knows to what extend his power goes and he intends to keep it that way. He knows better than to underestimate you. 

You remain in the shadows with the other courtiers, lords and ladies, wealthy merchants and others that bribed, bartered or earned their figure head places here to watch the show. Only those seated at the Dwendalian side of the table know it’s your hand to be bartered for. Though the cleverer ones among them might have figured it out with the recent events and parties you’ve attended being introduced not only as the ward of the Archmage but as the blood of the king and of course just as expected, they flocked to attempt to gain favour the beloved relative of the king, long kept out of the picture for their safety. A lie had been planted that with the Dwendalian prince and his wife having trouble conceiving, you might possibly be a contender for that throne. Of course you’d never be even close to inheriting the throne, even if pretty much every other member of the royal family met a horrible end, you’d still have barely a claim. But they don’t need to know that nor does the Dynasty. Rumours spread successfully. 

At the table you recognise several people. The Dwendalian side seats Prime Arbiter Truscan, Crown Marshall Damurag, Emissary Graf, Martinet Da’leth, Master Ikithon, and of course your father Master Margolin. Three archmages is plenty and lucky for you the king agreed. Lord Uludan will be quite sour for weeks to come having been passed on for his rival Emissary Graf you can rest a little easier knowing there’s not yet another narcissist you’ll have to watch.

You do not recognise the representatives from the Dynasty. Some you can identify by reputation and rumours alone but of the several seated you can only confidently identify the Dusk Captain, Skysybil Mirimm and the leader of Den Duendalos. You’ll have to applaud the Dynasty for allowing if not encouraging the presence of them due to their history with the Empire, specifically the royal family. You can see how this may complicate some things. Of course you recognise the Shadowhand who you’d met earlier. Other than that you’ll have to rely on the whispers of those around you and the rumours you’ll be able to assemble throughout this meeting and perhaps several more to follow. 

The meeting goes on, terms laid on the table, written carrying the seal of the respective leaders of their nations. Amendments are made, more terms set. It’s a never ending battle of words and wits, trying to exert and exploit loopholes whenever they’re put up. Both sides are equally matched when it comes down to it. Whenever a weaker member speaks up, there’s always another more calculated one to cover their words and make them fool proof as a precaution. The whole ordeal reminds you of what the higher politics of the Hells are described as; laws and rules depending on the words and interpretations of others with a good dash of manners thrown into the mix of the smuggest players in the game all to cover up the fact that most of them would not think twice to tear each other’s heads off in a matter of seconds. 

It’s known that the Shadowhand thrives in this kind of field. Essek takes great pride in his skill and exploiting every single slip up he could has worked in the Dynasty’s favour however, the fact that there’s three snakes seated opposite of him has him more than on edge. He worries that should they find it favourable to throw him into the deep to further their own means they will in an instant so Essek treads carefully around them. He does not relent or show weakness knowing they’ll exploit that just as hard and will continue to do so in any future encounter. He also knows their intent is not peace. They could not care less about what the results of this meeting will be. If anything, war might work in their favour. A smoke screen for their works, the works he is involved with. Essek is aware of the price and is willing to pay it as the knowledge to be earned from these discoveries is priceless. But if war can be avoided, he would not be deliberately causing it. 

“You talk about treaties and agreements, offering up one thing for another yet you have not even mentioned the real price you’re so eager to offer up before this meeting. Why are they not speaking for their own fate? Is it not your ways to let the one who carries the weight of this deal on their shoulders be involved in what they offer up their life for?” The Dusk Captain argues after a rather bold statement from the Prime Arbiter. 

“I am sure the Prime Arbiter meant no offence. This is simply a misunderstanding. We simply do not wish to overwhelm them. Besides, if I am correct the Dynasty’s suitor has not shown their face either? You can’t deny that not everyone is suitable for these… negotiations.” Lord Graf tries to mediate and you cringe at his words when several of the Dynasty representatives express their offence at the words. From where you stand you notice for just a second the Shadowhand rolls his eyes at the argument that bursts out between both sides. He rises from his seat and waits for a second. When the argument doesn’t calm down the air grows heavy, like you’re being pulled down towards the ground, like you’re heavier than the matter around you for just a second. It appears others felt this too. Dunamancy, you realise. 

“Can we please move on from this futile bickering? We have barely gotten a step further in the past hour. I advise we waste no more time on petty grievances and semantics and get back to the matter at hand lest we want to be here for weeks.” Essek speaks and even some of the Empire’s people seem to calm themselves down at the notion having to spend weeks in this company. They won’t last and might just invoke a war on their own. 

“I propose the Dynasty revealing the identity of the Bright Queen’s chosen suitor for this agreement in return for the Empire’s having a seat at the table.” Skysybil Mirimm suggests and for a second you think another argument is about to break out. She raises her hand, others follow suit. Not many but barely a majority. They wait for the Empire. Looks are shared and you can feel that familiar pressure against your skull again. You don’t fight it. Let them see your thoughts. Some colourful opinions might be all they’ll find unless digging deeper. 

You know exactly who peered into your mind when you catch a glimpse of Master Ikithon’s somewhat amused and barely noticeable smile when he raises his hand. Some within the Empire follow suit. The Martinet and your father do not. With all those at the table getting a vote, they’re currently at a draw. A brief silent conversation appears to be going on between the Martinet, Master Ikithon and your father. All in suspense they wait, until finally the Martinet raises his hand. When he does you feel that anger radiating from your father again. It’s not obvious to anyone else it seems but you know it’s there. 

“Well then, Shadowhand, let us meet your suitor.” The Dusk Captain smirks in victory upholding their end of this particular bargain. Whispers spread across the crowd as Essek rises. He pays little mind to those of no consequence but he can’t help that brief pang of fear within his very core when his eyes fall upon the three Assembly members at this table. All different but all similar in one way; realising the potential benefits of something they did not have before. He knows better to just let that slide. 

“Master Margolin, if you’d grace us with your presence at this table that would be much appreciated.” The Martinet doesn’t even turn when he addresses you and keeps his eyes trained on the Dynasty representatives, watching their every twitch. You have no doubt that when you feel the prodding into your mind leave you, it goes out to the people around, gauging their responses instead, the mage satisfied with his findings. You step forward, taking your place standing at your father’s left side but this time not behind. This time you stand right in between his and the Martinet’s chairs. 

“I would take a seat, Martinet but I’m afraid there’s no seats available.” You speak with a sense of grace and just a hint of an attitude befitting someone of the royal family. You’d be reprimanded for something like this were it any other case but now there’s nothing they can do about it. It is like a taste of freedom, despite the company, the need for manners and the likes, you feel more free than you ever had knowing that right now you’ve been dealt a hand at this table instead of being a bystander while others gamble with your life. It feels good. 

“Graf, since this is on you, you wouldn’t be opposed to offer your seat to the king’s beloved relative would you?” Master Ikithon might just take a little too much pleasure in his words as the emissary’s jaw drops but not wanting to make more of a fool out of himself he obliges getting up, pulling the seat out for you. You mutter a thank you as you take the seat next to the Martinet and right opposite of the Shadowhand. In that brief moment of eye contact you notice his breath hitching for barely a second. You’re sure no one else caught on but you did. 

“Shall we continue?” The Martinet suggests and so they do. You’re pulled into the negotiations, not because you insert yourself into it but because others at the table actually ask for your opinions. You’re well aware to the Dynasty you might be nothing more than fresh meat, untested in these fields and an easy victim for them to get benefits out of should they get you to slip up. You don’t and you won’t. Let them try. You counter them at every opportunity and find a comfortable back and forth you manage to make look effortless. It makes some of those at the table where you’ve come from and why they might never have heard about you. Essek knows exactly where this is coming from and that you’re anything but a novice. You know how to fight these battles and he’d be a fool to underestimate you. 

“It’s quite the price the Empire is willing to pay; offering up one of their own for a month of peace and cooperation. It makes one wonder if their offering is worth their weight or if this is another trick and ploy for them to gain the upper hand.” One of the Dynasty representatives concludes. The hit covered in innocent niceties does not go unnoticed. Not by you, not by the others. 

“It’s but politics, my lord. A future investment and a sign of good faith. It shows just like the Dynasty we are willing to offer up that what is important and valuable to us not just in use but sentimentally as well. Would you claim the offering of your spymaster’s hand is not exactly that?” A few mutters go throughout the room as you mention one of the Shadowhand’s tasks. The man in question’s eyes fall to you, the hint of an amused smirk present almost as if inviting you to continue. 

“If we are reading between the lines should one question your reasonings and intends for allowing the head of Den Duendalos to be present for this meeting, for any other reason than to get a rise out of my people? I mean this with the utmost respect of course.” You say earning a rather harsh glare from the Den leader in question. A power play, Essek realises. You are testing waters, weaving through playing on their emotions, not to get a rise out of them but to gauge responses, and wielding those responses and brief expressions of emotion to let others form opinions, turn those to your favour. 

“You mentioned a future investment, would you care to elaborate, Master Margolin?” Essek asks you, playing into your game, if only to see where it would lead him. He’s curious to see what you’re capable of. 

“With pleasure, Shadowhand. What I offer is empathy and understanding. Is it not to the benefit of the Dynasty to have someone able to read into the actions of the Empire, convey messages otherwise misunderstood? My hand being offered up in this union is not for my king, granted he benefits from it, but I agreed for my people. If it is not too bold to assume, is that not what we are all here for? Should be here for? Our people?” You play upon the heartstrings of the nationalists that’s for damn sure. Essek has to say he’s amused by your words and your ability to completely and utterly bullshit your way through. Of course he senses the core of truth but Essek is well aware now there’s selfish intent to your every action. You’re not here out of the goodness of your heart. The benefits to your people are just as additional as you are to your king. 

“I am well aware my loyalty to my king must come to an end when this marriage is officiated. I know my loyalties to my family must diminish greatly if not entirely end too. That is a sacrifice I am willing to make for this. It would be my honour to offer you my services, my knowledge and my mind for our common goal. How much are you willing to offer?” You feel a sense of pride when at that final question all eyes fall to the Shadowhand, waiting for his response. You wait too, if only you had the same gifts of your father and Master Ikithon where you could just gently ease into the thoughts of another. You have no doubt they are doing just that right now.

“My dedication to the cause has been proven many times over simply by the position I hold. I believe I am justified to say that once again shows through my acceptance of the Bright Queen’s wishes to offer my hand in return. You are willing to offer your services. I am willing to provide you the tools needed to make good on this promise. I do not believe I need to explain to you the value of this offer given your quick mind and impeccable understanding of politics.” You’re satisfied with his answer, and so seems everyone else. 

“Then we are in agreement. Both our integrities have been put to the test and proven here, if these results satisfy the honourable company we find ourselves in I believe we can move on to discuss the remaining queries? Unless you have something to add of course?” You bow your head but do not lower your eyes. 

And with that the negotiations continue. You have to say you take pleasure in the gentle inconspicuous alliance you appear to have fallen into with the Shadowhand. Whenever either of you notice tension on the rise and another futile argument on the horizon you both work effortlessly to calm it down, or steer it to rise when it might be beneficial. It feels almost playful in nature if you didn’t know any better, like minds equally met able to spar instead of fight for your respective lives and reputations against each other. You could get used to this. Preferably in different company that is waiting for either of you to make a mistake.

Your only wish for this whole arranged marriage was your suitor would be a decent person. That much you feel able to say. You’ll be marrying a decent man. Thank all that is sacred Shadowhand Essek Thelyss is a decent man. 

[yfere]

Behold! My Foolproof Plan on Caleb becoming Archmage of Antiquities (why? to tear corruption out from the inside of course)

So, when Assembly mages die, their seats open up, and current members can make recommendations and cast votes to determine what mage takes the next seat. If Caleb went for it, I am very confident on his and the M9′s collective ability to get him that seat with a probable 5 vote victory, by fivethirtyeight standards.

Some general notes: Caleb isn’t an annex and doesn’t have strong ties to any existing member (meaning he looks like he could conceivably ally with anyone), he has a great deal of political power and connections to leverage with the dynasty, as well as connections to the cobalt soul, the tal-dorei council through allura, and yussa of the menagerie coast (and if he wants to go there, the gentleman as well). He has popular appeal and would look good as someone who helped bring the war to a close--a war that, at the time of the peace talks, it looked like the Empire was about to lose. He is positioned well and has the expertise to continue Vess’ research. Most importantly, Caleb has a band of highly capable immediate allies/mercenaries in the Mighty Nein. The play is to make himself and the Mighty Nein appear as an easily manipulated tool, with simple desires.

The vote breakdown:

Vote one in favor: Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence

Narratively, this is....fun. Trent is probably the most likely to recommend Caleb in the first place. I doubt he’d resist a chance to dig his claws back into Caleb. If he’s successful? He has a two vote majority at all times, and can wield a great deal of additional power through Caleb as a puppet seat. Trent may pull a vote for Caleb to fuck with Caleb, fuck with Astrid, and fuck with the Assembly at large.

Vote two in favor: Martinet Ludinus Da’leth, Archmage of Domestic Protections

This is a guy who hated Vess, and would probably be only too happy to do favors to her murderers. Based on information from TEGTW, this is a man who hates the Kryn (probably still has that going on) and desperately wants information on their weaknesses. Caleb and co, given their connection to the Dynasty, could be the perfect spies on his behalf. Additionally, I think Caleb may have made a good impression for coming off so stridently as an Empire patriot during the party when they spoke. It’s likely he thinks Caleb’s desires could be as simple as getting revenge on Trent, which would make gaining Caleb’s alliance with a vote a good bet for him.

Vote three in favor: Master Doolan Tversky, Archmage of Dysology 

Like Vess, this is a woman primarily interested in her research. She also has a bone to pick with the Cobalt Soul for refusing her access to their library (for her unsavory research methods). Beau and Caleb could team up and get that overturned in exchange for a vote--making Tversky the strongest vote for Caleb if they play their cards right. Beau would need to pitch to the Cobalt Reserve that the exchange for Tversky’s access would be her own access, through Caleb, on Assembly insider business. (of course this is also what makes Beau a potential hindrance to the campaign as a whole--the Assembly doesn’t want the Soul spying on them). Should this fail, Beau could offer to be a back door for research that Tversky wants, or the M9 can engage in the same beast-hunting business the Myriad and the Gentleman have been doing on her behalf. Conceivably, they could threaten to dry up her line of beast-hunting in Zadash through the Gentleman, but this is a far riskier move. We want Caleb to get votes based on potential benefits, not blackmail.

Vote four in favor: Lord Athesias Uludan, Archmage of Diplomatic Union. 

This is a vote that will probably go with whatever side would be for or against Caleb. But, the M9 did help him flex during peace talks, and I believe he also would have a vested interest in the M9′s connections and influence within the Dynasty.

Vote five in favor: Headmaster Oremid Hass, Archmage of Cultivation

This vote is more on the basis of his friendly relationship with the M9 so far. He doesn't have any goals or motivations I think the M9 can specifically exploit for a vote, but they're on good enough terms I think he'd go in their favor if it came down to it.

The two remaining votes come from Headmaster Zivan Margolin, Archmage of Conscription and Baroness Jenna Iresor, Archmage of Industry. In the case of Margolin, while he’s the one who put Caleb on the Scourger track of study, I don’t see any particular reasons he would be for or against Caleb’s installment. He also doesn’t appear to have any special interests or vices to exploit--the key is just not to antagonize him. With Iresor, she also has no reason to be particularly for or against Caleb. I doubt the M9 will end up spending enough time with her to discover her secret, and even if they did it would be extremely unwise to attempt to blackmail her with it.

And there you have it! Archmage Widogast 2020