[The Magical Court]
The plane, called Albion, was divided in many territories. Unsurprisingly, humans were not the dominant force. Dragons, some of which exceeded the rank 2 rating, were far stronger than the human magi. However, it was not so weak either. Elves, with their low reproduction cycles, were losing ground centuries after centuries, whereas dwarves lived in seclusion. As such, the central continent, which the dragons loathed due to its lack of mana concentration, was home to the great [Phuinem Empire].
Backed by the [Magical Court], the strongest magical organisation the humans ever created, which shaped the continent's politics for centuries, its presence etched each and every surrounding kingdom, like a serpent tightening its grasp.
Although the [Porfield Kingdom] was one of the strongest kingdom in terms of military power, with hundreds of 'Grand Knights' and several rank 1 magi, it could not contend to the likes of the Magical Court, who negotiated at the same table as the elven king and the orcs great shamans.
Still, peace existed thanks to the Magical Court's antics, preferring mutual growth over conflict. Often, it would lend its acolytes to the highest bidder, allowing their apprentices, acolytes, to gain experience and wealth, while the Magical Court earned more reputation and influence.
In comparison, the Black Widow Association was but a very small, almost insignificant organisation.
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The three acolytes of the Magical Court welcomed the sight of the river as dusk began to settle. Two months. One of the reasons why the Phuinem Empire had not overreached its territory was sheer distance. Even if teleportation arrays existed, they could not set up such expensive technology in rural places. As such, horses were the fastest means of transportation.
After days on the road, the cool, clear water was a blessing. They made camp on a grassy bank, a small fire crackling to life against the deepening twilight.
Kaelen, the lizardman, was the first to drink deeply from his waterskin, filled directly from the river. His scaled hide, the color of dried moss, was tough and resilient, but the water was refreshing. He was their frontline, a warrior whose strength could shatter shields. People say that lizardmen are a failed experiments of magi of old...But no one knew if these were rumours, or held a semblance of truth.
He sat near the fire, sharpening his heavy great sword, his yellow-slitted eyes scanning the dark tree line with innate vigilance. He saw no threat, only the peaceful forest.
Lyra, the ice mage, sat gracefully on a rolled-out blanket. With a whisper and a gesture, she conjured a small, swirling orb of frost to chill a fruit. Her movements were precise, her blue robes clean and almost shining under the moonlight. She watched Kaelen with a faint smile; his straightforward strength was a comfort.
She felt secure behind his protection and her own power, which could flash-freeze a man in his tracks. The water she sipped from her own skin tasted clean, untainted.
It was Thermiona, the divination mage, who felt the first prickle of unease. Her elven blood granted her features an ethereal sharpness, and her senses were attuned to the flows of magic and fate. As she raised her own hands to her lips a couple of minutes later, a sudden, violent ripple in the threads of possibility made her hand freeze. A vision, sharp and painful, flashed behind her eyes: not of an enemy charging from the trees, but of a slow, insidious sickness coiling in their guts, a weakness born not from steel, but from water.
Her head snapped up, her large, silver-wide eyes reflecting the firelight. "Don't!" she cried out, her voice cutting through the peaceful night. "Don't drink the water!"
But it was too late for Kaelen. He had already drained his skin. He looked at her, confused, just as a wave of nausea visibly hit him, his powerful frame shuddering. However, this was the extent of the poison on people like him. Lizardmen could barely be called humanoid. They were too strong, too endurant to be called such things.
As for the ice mage, Lyra, she quickly drank an antidote. They had not expected an ambush, but it didn't mean they came unprepared. They were, after all, apprentices of the magical court, and it definitely wasn't their first mission.
The soldiers around them, however, weren't so lucky. Most of them possessed average vitality. They did not feel much, but as they heard the scream, they all started to rise in formations. Their movements, however, felt sluggish. The anxiousness caused some to vomit on the ground, but rather than bile, blood showed. It was a scene of horror.
A crossbow bolt rippled through the air, targeting the leader of this expedition, Knight Rodrigue. Unable to stand guard properly, and under the effect of surprise, he fell instantly to the ground. The bolt had been accurate, deadly precise.
However, the three magical court acolytes instantly realised that this was no average ambush. Their magical sense picked up the dark, shadow elemental particles surrounding the bolt. They were being attacked by enemy acolytes.
Kaelen was the first to react, charging blindly in the opposing direction of the knight. The crossbow shot had fallen a knight, but also revealed the acolytes' locations. To everyone's surprise, a vampire surged from the shadows, his red eyes, white pale skin and deathly blood aura fooled no one.