As the group left the tower, Robert's friends buzzing with excitement over their upgrades, he pulled Toby's figurine from his pocket and held it loosely in his right fist. He released a pulse of light, air, and earth magic into the carving, pressing M-Power to give it purpose. With minimal effort, he transformed the wooden figurine into an active automaton, a small warrior with a sword and staff. He could feel it wiggling in his hand, squirming to escape, as it saw it, the bizarre fleshy prison of Robert's right fist.
The tiny warrior's sword pricked Robert's finger in protest. He opened his hand, and the figurine leaped onto his palm. It stood boldly, its carved features somehow radiating feisty determination. The wooden warrior pointed its sword at Robert, then propped its hands on its hips, as if scolding him for its confinement.
Robert chuckled, intrigued by the creation's audacity. He watched it take exploratory steps across his palm, its tiny feet tapping his skin. The automaton swept its staff dramatically, signaling battle-readiness, then turned back with a challenging stance.
"Well, aren't you spirited," Robert said with amusement.
Calling for Toby as he neared the arch, Robert kept the figurine perched on his hand, occasionally moving his fingers to test its reactions. The warrior dodged or hopped over his movements with surprising agility, delighting Robert. Toby rushed forward, face flushed with excitement.
"Hey, Toby, I made something for you too," Robert called, his tone warm.
With a gentle toss, Robert flung the warrior toward Toby. The boy caught it mid-air, eyes brimming with wonder as he examined the animated figure. The figurine slumped against Toby's finger, wrapping its arms around it in an affectionate hug, or perhaps relief from Robert's handling.
Toby's laughter bubbled up. "Oh wow! It moves! Is it alive?"
Robert shook his head, smiling. "Not like us. It's just animated. But if you set him loose, you might not find him again. He'll probably hunt bugs in your house."
The thought thrilled Toby. "Oh man, that's so cool! I'll bring him bugs to spar with. Thank you, Magister! It's the best gift ever! I can't wait to show my friends; they're gonna be so jealous!"
Toby waved enthusiastically, clutching the figurine. The warrior made a rude gesture at Robert with its sword hand. Toby's laughter grew louder, and they scampered off, boy and figurine already inseparable.
Snow, watching with a fond smile, spoke. "That was sweet. Toby's never gonna forget that."
Chaucer quipped, "You could make one hell of a chess set with that kind of magic."
Robert paused, picturing towering chess pieces patrolling the castle walls, their movements fluid and strategic. The kobolds could focus on Kobrute training, while enchanted sentries guarded the perimeter.
"Now that's an idea," ROBERT murmured, rubbing his chin. "Hmm. Imagine the possibilities."
The group approached the arch, its frame humming with energy. Beyond it, Edinburgh's chaos awaited. As they passed through, the air grew cold, thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and blood. Shouts blended with distant Cu Sith growls.
Near the arch, fighters huddled over makeshift maps on a stone table, their armor dented and bloodstained. They stepped out of thin air near the city's edge, startling the fighters, who reached for their sidearms but relaxed when they saw the newcomers were human.
"You're the fighters from Doras Dagda, aren't you?" a man in his thirties asked, stepping forward. His mismatched uniform carried authority, his voice rough but steady. "I'm Captain Monty Scott. Call me Scotty. I was sent to brief you. Your other fighters told me to expect you. Never heard of Doras Dagda, though. Where's that?"
Robert nodded. "That's us. It's a new settlement near Kilrain, west of Inverness. I'm Robert MacCallum. What's the situation?"
Monty gestured to the maps. "Hell. Absolute hell. Cu Sith are flooding the northern neighborhoods. The Nuckelavee's at the center, spreading death with every breath. We've tried counter-attacks, but the losses," he shook his head, "it's a massacre. Most officers are dead. The rest fell to the Cu Sith or the sickness from corpses. I'm an engineer, not meant for command, but battlefield promotions don't care who you were."
"Battlefield promotion?" Snow asked, brow furrowed.
Monty nodded grimly. "When the chain of command breaks, someone steps up. No training, no prep. Just doing what's needed."
Monty's grit caught Robert's attention, prompting a scan with his left eye, its crystalline core glowing gently. Monty's aura burned with ingenuity and resilience, traits of a remarkable leader.
This man could lead an army, a skillful right hand to Hamish when he steps up to lead Doras Dagda's army, as Robert's vision foretold. He had a warrior's strength and the intelligence to assess and improve any situation. This Captain Monty would be a powerful Magitek Engineer. Robert bet Langston and he would have plenty to discuss, if Monty gained the spark.
"You're more than you realize," Robert said softly, meeting Monty's eyes. "Your adaptability, your drive, it's exactly what's needed."
Monty blinked, caught off guard, but a scout rushed in, face pale. "Captain! The Cu Sith are regrouping near the southern barricade. They're coming in bigger numbers."
Monty straightened, determination replacing weariness. "Then we'd better be ready. Magister, your team's reputation precedes you. Any strategies, now's the time."
Pressed by the crisis, Robert said, "Give me your hand. I have something for you. Sorry, I don't have time to prepare you, but, consider it another promotion." The captain glanced warily but extended his hand. "Meet Moira," Robert uttered apologetically, clasping Monty's hand. A white-hot bolt of mana surged from Robert's Mana Core, the nine-pointed symbol flashing under his tunic. It raged into Monty like a lightning strike.
Monty froze, as if shocked, his eyes glowing red, then purple, then pale blue. What felt like hours to Scotty was mere seconds. The mana seared through his muscles and nerves, rewriting pathways. Scotty felt ablaze inside, unable to scream. The fire spread from his arm to his spine, then to every extremity, crackling through his brain. The searing heat threatened to burst him, then faded into a cool, shady calm, before settling into a soothing coolness, like a stream rushing through his veins with every heartbeat.
When the sensations passed, Moira greeted him softly in his mind. "Hello, Scotty. I'm Moira. Don't be afraid. You're a soldier of magic now, and I'll help you wield it to give these dogs the justice they deserve."
With those words, the paralysis released. Scotty stared at Robert, a mix of pain, fury, confusion, and wonder crossing his face. "I'm insane. I can hear a woman." He shook his head vigorously. "Why is there a woman in my head?"
Robert scanned him again, noting Scotty's magic: a blend of fire, darkness, and wind. Darkness was unexpected. Robert had let the least-resisted magic flow, and Scotty's soul affinities welcomed three elements, a rare gift compared to Snow's two or Hamish's one.
"Captain," Robert said to refocus him, "where do we need to go?"
Scotty snapped to attention, training kicking in. "Right. You'll answer for this later. Your other squads entered the southern city to find survivors." He showed Robert the map, the city north of their position, fires and smoke clouding the night sky. "They were polite but shredded those hounds with firepower I've never seen. Dogs fell by the dozens. We stayed out of their way. Barricades are here and here on major roads. Some of your groups manned them, ferrying survivors to us." He pointed to an army tent, where cries and shouts rose as medics treated bite wounds.
"Snow," Robert commanded, "see what you can do in that tent. Heal the worst and check for infections." Snow nodded and ran off, her turret zooming beside her.
Reaching left, Robert shot a beam of light from his hand. Using Beam magic from his prismatic magister role, he aimed at the portal, invisible unless one knew where to look, until his left eye's glow revealed it. As the beam struck, the gate flared to life, revealing teams waiting for refugees.
"Tell your men to send survivors through that doorway," Robert said. "It leads to Doras Dagda, where we have people ready to help. It'll keep them safe."
Scotty gaped as the doorway opened from thin air. "I don't know why this keeps surprising me. I've seen the fire portal and that laser from your hand. It's like I'm trapped in a fantasy novel and can't break free."
Robert stared, an odd feeling about Scotty's perception, as if he sensed things others couldn't. He wondered what Scotty's powers truly were.
They discussed the situation briefly until Snow returned with civilians in tow. Passing Chaucer, they stared at his furry rat face with distrust. He smiled cheerfully, waving his rat fingers. "I'm a good rat. Don't mind me! Safety's through that glowing door. Go through, nothing can hurt you there. People will help!"
Snow nodded, confirming his words. "That's Chaucer. He's a poet and skilled fighter. My friend. Come on, don't be slow. He's right. There's safety and a new home if you need one." The civilians rushed toward the portal, stepping onto the Arch platform, where they were offered blankets, food, and care with merciful warmth.
Robert knew Snow was right. Edinburgh might not be free soon. This was a rescue mission, not liberation. In his heart, he knew the Nuck was not a creature to trifle with.
At least, not yet.