Noble Arcana

The horse slowed down as he approached the manor, the smoke causing it to spook a bit. He tightened his grip on the reins and dug in his heels a bit to force it a bit closer. He reached the front door and began to move his mana as he curled the fingers in his left hand around slowly until he made a fist, casting cease flame. The fire in the corner of the mansion stopped immediately, but the smoke continued.

He leapt from the horse and moved for the front door. He pulled out a handkerchief and held it in front of his mouth and nose as he pulled it open. The atrium was undamaged, but smoke filled the room. He squinted his eyes through the smoke, leaving the door open behind him as he tried to trace the source of it. He could hear yelling as he made his way forward.

He realized that it was coming from the kitchen. He made his way there, going by memory as much as limited sight. He saw a man hauling a bucket inside and dumping it.

“Is everyone okay?” he yelled.

The man started and turned to him.

“I’m not sure sir. The cook was coughing a lot and had a few burns. Dramond carried her out.”

“What about Felicity? The maid?”

“I haven’t seen her.”

Solomon nodded. “Open all the windows and doors. The fire seems to be out. Once that’s done, start looking for her.”

The man nodded and moved for the nearest window, pushing it open. Solomon made his way through the back door of the kitchen, making sure that his spell had actually cleared out all of the flames. From what he could see the damage began in the kitchen before spreading. An accident? No. Claire was a careful and deliberate woman. Even if a small fire had been started by accident she’d never allow it to spread this far.

He pushed his way out of the kitchen door and saw a man he presumed was Dramond kneeling next to Claire. He approached, kneeling down in his suit and grabbing her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

She coughed. “Don’t-” She coughed again. “It was the mayor-” she coughed more.

“Neiman? He was here?”

She nodded through another coughing fit.

“He took Felici-” She coughed more. “Set an oil fire and took her. She was-” another heavy cough. “unconscious. He looked crazed.”

Solomon nodded, looking up at Dramond. “Try to get her further from this smoke. Once she’s settled, get her some water to clear her throat.”

He nodded and bent down to pick her up. Solomon walked back through the smokey kitchen and made his way deliberately to the library. He peeled open the door, black smoke coiling into the room from behind him and rising up through the empty shelves. He walked over to the empty suit of armor and activated it, calmly watching as it moved to the side for him.

He thanked the armor and walked quickly down the steps into the hidden chamber. He gathered his blood vials, carefully slotting each of them into different pockets and memorizing where they were. Then he took a handful of gold and silver coins and did the same. He took the last few mirror shards and put them in his chest pocket. Finally he grabbed the blunderbuss that James had given him. It was already loaded with gunpowder and shards of null-metal. He slung it over his shoulder. Alongside that he’d come up with the idea to glue some of the shards to the outside of a few of the blood vials, but he only had a few of those prepared so far.

With all of that in hand and his walking stick, Solomon began walking out, receiving a salute from his homunculi as he made his way into the library. The smoke was beginning to clear out well, and he could hear some commotion in the atrium. He used the cover of the remaining smoke to walk out through the back door, walking through the garden and straight back into where the Black Wood was encroaching on his acreage.

Taken from NovelPhoenix, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He could feel something within the wood. A kind of call that was resonating with mana inside of him. Was it a call from the Lord of the Black Wood, or was it his Mana resonating with a girl that was his responsibility to protect? He wasn’t sure, but he followed it carefully as he stepped into the edge of the forest.

After less than a dozen steps he found himself standing in dark shade, the thick canopy of the woods obscuring everything in shadow as he walked. He stayed calm, watching his footing as he’d seen the trapper do and keeping his eyes and ears open. Every few steps he thought he saw a white figure weaving through the trees, or heard a clawed hand scraping away the bark of a tree only a few yards away.

This wasn’t the ideal circumstance. Solomon had hoped to control the situation, to choose when to attack. It seemed that the spirit had the same idea. If it had waited just a few more weeks then perhaps he could’ve even gotten the mana hiding object from the Knight of Pentacles and given this fight over to the blue boots. That certainly would’ve been the safest option. It still was an option.

At least, perhaps it was an option for someone other than Solomon. Felicity had been given into his care to protect her from his brother. It was his duty as a lord to ensure her safety. She was Edmure’s cousin. His former valet, a man that had done more to raise him than his own father. Beyond all that she was a scared and hurt woman that needed help. He would not leave her fate to chance.

Solomon pushed forward and began to feel a painful headache spreading within his mind. He focused on the image of his walking stick in his hand, strengthening it with mana, fighting off the psychic attack with mental fortification.

The first attack was only momentary, but the second was sustained. He could feel hostile mana pressing against his mind, trying to drill its way into him. He continued focusing on the image of his cane in his mind, strengthening it with even more mana as he continued to push forward. His clothes catching on sharp branches and leaves as he moved. More and more he saw the visions of women in white and a skinny dark figure with too-long arms and horrific claws creeping between the trees. Somehow they were all silent, and they seemed to shift where they were moment to moment.

Solomon simply followed the pull he felt, moving deeper and deeper into the black woods. His head was in extraordinary pain, but he continued. He could see something seeming to glow in the distance where he was headed, and he moved toward the light, realizing it was a lantern.

He broke through the trees and found himself in a clearing. All around were the remnants of a stone building. Walls that had crumbled over time, chimneys that now only served to warm bats and other vermin, and large stones overgrown with moss. On the highest of the walls sat a single brightly lit lantern. In front of it, on a long smooth stone, was Felicity. She was no longer wearing her usual practical maid outfit, but was instead in a flowing white gown. Her eyes were open, but gray and clouded, and her expression neutral.

Behind her stood former mayor Neiman. While Solomon still had an image of a proud and large man wearing fine clothes and making rash demands, he now saw in front of himself a shell of that image. Neiman was emaciated. The rags he wore hung off of him, tattered and torn from the branches and thorns of the woods. His hair had begun falling out in clumps, leaving random patches of baldness across his scalp, and his mouth was covered in blood as if he’d eaten something raw recently. His eyes were mad and crazed, but also half clouded by gray in the same way that Felicity’s were.

As Solomon sized him up, he noticed the approach of others. Brides in white gowns that flowed like mist began to come out of the woods, standing in the stone ruins silently, flowing like wind. Over the lantern came the Lord of the Black Wood. Solomon had only ever glimpsed him in pieces, but now he beheld him in his entirety. He was at least twelve feet tall, his body the same black as the bark of the trees that surrounded him. His arms were much too long and ended in hands with fingers the size of a man’s arms. Logically, he shouldn’t even be able to move his thin arms, but he easily lifted them, coiling his fingers around the ruins of a high ruin of a stone wall. His head was shaped like a downward spade, with branches and leaves growing from it, as if he was wearing a mask of fresh foliage, and his eyes… they were hollow and black, with only the slightest pinprick of pure white in their center.

Solomon raised his chin at them and centered himself behind his walking stick, fixing his gaze on Neiman. He looked him up and down with a look of distaste on his face.

“I’m not sure life in the Black Wood agrees with you.”