As it turned out, the Battle of Evernorth had implications at every level. Caden was unsurprised to learn that. But he was pleasantly surprised to find that his actions had earned him a (more-or-less) unconditional pardon from the local Church, left to him in a very heavy scroll in Veshua's living room. Accompanying it was a formal declaration of banishment, which was also not a surprise. His weapons, Hat, coat, grimoire et all were piled neatly underneath it. Charger was vandalizing Nildinar's garden in the back yard, scaring neighbor children and generally being a menace to society. Caden approved. Dresden stopped by with his entire family to say good-bye, and Caden gave a few parting lessons to Lucretia as his past partied with itself. Veshua taught Dresden's children how to dance, Dresden and Nildinar had an arm-wrestling contest, Crina baked a cake and Cadence -- bitter, frosty, irritable Cadence the Weatheraxe -- showed up just in time to bless it, give Caden a hug, and leave.
For all the reputation she had as a hard-liner, her eyes still had a mischievous little gleam in them when she learned that Lucretia now knew the basics of thermal evocation. There was something about a formal apprenticeship in her future and the little Wizardess spent the rest of the day rambling about it with Justina.
Caden sat on the sidelines for the most part. He was still sore and Evernorth had left him with a couple of new scars to show for it.
The next few days saw the entire city undergo a huge demographics shift. The mayor and the Church issued a joint declaration banishing every inhuman from the city and giving them a week to clear out -- because all the Warlocks, bar a few corrupted souls, inhuman. The week's grace period was because the Church's surviving Wizards were still licking their wounds and nobody wanted to chance a full-blown civil war so soon after the Battle they were all busy writing songs about. When Veshua told him, with Nildinar and Justina in the room, all he said was, "I know a guy."
Redhide asked him later that day, "Why are you accompanying us? It's not like you're under any obligation to-"
"These are my people," Caden answered, putting on a new pair of glasses as he did it. "Give or take. I'm only riding with you for a while though."
Redhide gave him a slow nod. "You're going through with it, then?"
Here, and only here, did the Wizard Blueraven's cheerful facade crack. He smiled through it, tilting his head such that the lenses of his glasses were rendered opaque, and said, "I have no reason not to."
Word of coming Witchhunters and the violence spreading throughout the country hastened the inhuman exodus. More than a few sympathizers went with them. The old ghetto burned down the night they left, and Caden watched the smoke rise as he gave his newly adopted goddaughter a ride on Charger. "What's that?" Justina asked.
"The Fifth Law of Wizardry," he answered, looking forward to the caravan. "You can never go back."
She was too young to understand now, but she would in time. Caden chose not to spoil it for her.
He left the caravan a few days later, when their path took them away from the frozen coastline of Berevar and the wildlands that lay beyond its reaches. He did so with minimal good-byes; a handshake for Nildinar, a hug and kiss on the cheek from Veshua and Justina, and a crossing of sword and spear with the Shaman Redhide. "Good luck," was the last thing the Orc said to him, and Caden just smiled.
A few days after that, he rode to a stop on the opposite coast from Evernorth, in the officially designated Wildlands of Berevar. He set up a small camp, using wilderness skills honed in his apprenticeship to Wizard Greyspine, and stayed warm with the help of some blankets and magic. Charger wasn't bothered by the cold, but he still bleated something troublesome in the witching hour that night. Caden had his wand out before he even opened his eyes.
"Stop," said a voice, and he hesitated to do so. "It's me."
"Exactly."
A deep, draconic laugh lit across planes of snow and ice, and in the dull moonlight stood Anton Wyrmtongue. He wore a new robe, something different from the one he'd won during their last fight, and he was accompanied by a new gremlin that puffed fire and giggled smoke. "I've come to say...thanks."
"For?"
"Cooperating with me."
"I'm wondering if I shouldn't have," Caden admitted.
Anton rolled his eyes and spoke without moving his mouth. It was one of those disquieting habits that reminded Caden his enemy would never be anyting close to human -- not in mannerisms, not in compassion, not in morals. And that was fine. Caden was feeling a little inhuman himself these days.
"You said it yourself when we went over the plan, Wizard: One Apocalypse or a thousand. While I was powerless to directly harm Raun, you...you were only bound by a figment of your own imagination. He probably locked you in when you first walked into Inhuton. Blindsighter's Cage can be difficult to detect, after all."
"They never did find any towers there," Caden said. "At least not while I was around."
Anton shrugged. "Your timing was perfect, I might add."
"It could've been better. Innocent people died because I didn't want to."
"You said it yourself: It was for the greater good."
"I don't like what I'm turning into," Caden replied, "For the greater good or not." He waited a few seconds before adding, "And one thing still bugs me. If Raun was so...prophetic, if he could See everything the way he did...why wasn't he able to See our plan? Nevermind everything that he could've done to disrupt it. Like just not showing up."
Anton chuckled. Sighed. Took a few seconds to say, "I honestly don't know, Wizard. And you can bank on that. Maybe Seering Folk aren't as omniscient as they claim. Maybe they can See all options, all possibilities and paths, but they can only focus in on so many of them at a time. And there's always the off chance that our unique natures as timetravellers could also do something to the Sight. Perhaps it's one of those things we're just better off not knowing..."
Silence.
Dead silence, with not even the howl of wind.
Followed by lunatic cackles that'd make you wonder about which of these two is the evil one.
Anton actually wiped a tear from his eye before adding, "And I will say this of Time, Wizard, before I leave...
"It goes on. And the past is not what we remember it to be. In my youth, I actually watched myself...I watched myself duel you to the death in that town square. I watched you kill me in cold blood. And now, everything has changed. Because now, I have killed myself in cold blood. Do you know what my old Name was? Banebram."
Caden stared at him.
"Something to think about, eh, Wizard?" Anton asked.
He left not long after that. All things considered, it was the most peaceful meeting Caden ever had with him. He saddled back up the next morning, and like reluctant heroes nowhere, rode off into a false dawn.
End
Out of Character:
Incidentally, if anyone wants to have Church agents use them in the FQ...
Magicide Blade: A three to four foot long sword with a curving blade, somewhat similar to an Elven cavalry saber. The blade is mainly colored sky blade with an orange or red shine, while the handle looks like solid gold and the guard is minimal -- just enough to keep th hand from slipping, but virtually useless to catch an enemy blade. These swords were made for the express purpose of breaking spells, barriers and enchantments and killing magic users. The blade is fashioned from a uniquely enchanted form of dehlar that not only resists magic but completely negates it on contact. The effect only applies to the blade, however, and the weapon does not generate a protective field, nor can it be made to channel or absorb magic for the wielder's use. The Church of Ethereal Sway possesses around fifteen to twenty of these weapons, and may use, destroy, or issue them to field agents as it pleases. Despite their origins as Warlock weapons, their use against magic is obvious. The Church lacks the arcane knowledge or materials to make more of them.
EDIT: Would the new glasses count as spoils? If so, those.
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